Finding Home in Unfamiliar Places
For eighteen years, California was the only place I called home. But the moment I packed my purple Honda Civic with everything I owned and drove off to college, my definition of home shifted. Suddenly, home wasn’t a single address—it became something more fluid. Home started to mean wherever I was planted.
One of the biggest moves I made came when I was accepted into a graduate program at Texas Christian University. I moved my entire life from Idaho, where I had just finished my undergraduate degree, to Fort Worth, Texas. I went from being a short drive away from family to being separated by flights and time zones. I had no friends, no family nearby, and no real sense of what Texas would hold. Once again, I packed up my car—this time with my dog—and drove more than thirty hours south. Although I had lived in multiple states by then, Texas made me feel like a fish out of water. The idea of planting roots there, even temporarily, felt daunting.
Having lived in six states over the past decade, I’ve learned that home isn’t something you stumble upon. It’s something you build, again and again.
Below are a few lessons I’ve picked up along the way—experiences that taught me how to make any place feel like home, even when it’s only for a season.
Feeling Grounded Even When it’s Temporary
In 2021, my husband and I left Fort Worth with everything we owned in a U-Haul, and moved to New York City so he could finish law school. I will never forget the moment we drove onto the George Washington Bridge and saw the city skyline. I felt excited, nervous, and everything in between. We double-parked the truck on the street and unloaded our things in a blur of chaos and adrenaline.
New York was the first place where I truly felt like I was starting from scratch. I wasn’t in school anymore, so there were no built-in friendships through classes. I was working remotely due to the pandemic, which meant no coworkers to casually connect with, either. I didn’t know a single person in the city.
So I made myself a promise: I would be intentional. I would push myself beyond my comfort zone and actively work to make Manhattan feel like home, even if it was temporary.
I committed to showing up—to neighborhoods, routines, and experiences that once felt unfamiliar.
Finding Community and People in Your Corner
In a city where you’re constantly surrounded by people, it’s surprisingly easy to feel invisible. I knew that if New York was going to feel like home, I had to find my people.
I joined various workout studios, making an effort to talk to people in the class. I hung out in coffee shops, making friends with the baristas and other people who were working remote jobs in the city. We went to theatre performances and bonded with other people about the sheer talent and delight of the entire experience.
Even though our time in New York was short, the community I found there grounded me. Those connections made the city feel like a meaningful chapter in our story—not just a stop along the way, but a place that will always belong to us.
Make Your Space a Place You Want to Be
Whether you’re snowed in, avoiding unbearable heat, or stuck inside with the flu, home should feel like a refuge. Even if it’s temporary, it should be a place you want to return to.
We had almost no furniture when we lived in New York because we knew we would be leaving after the school year was over. We bought the world’s cheapest, most uncomfortable couch, just so we could sit together and watch the TV that sat on top of its box. The space was small and imperfect, but it was ours. It was where we shared meals, laughed at movies, and reconnected at the end of long days.
We also created meaningful traditions along the way. We walked sixteen blocks to buy pumpkins to carve for Halloween. We cooked our first Thanksgiving meal together in our tiny apartment, using whatever ingredients we could find nearby. That year, we bought our first Christmas tree—barely two feet tall—and placed presents beneath its colorful lights.
Those small rituals mattered. They turned an apartment into a home.
The Moments That Make a Place Last
Although New York was home for only a year, the memories we made there remain some of my favorites. It wasn’t about how long we stayed—it was about how intentionally we lived while we were there.
My husband proposed to me along the Hudson River, a place we visited often to watch the sunset. It’s a reminder that the smallest, most ordinary moments can become life’s biggest milestones.
After going from living in Manhattan, to Pocatello, to finally ending up in Dallas, I can honestly say, that each spot we’ve lived in has been home for us, and it’s because of the amount of effort we put into planting roots wherever we are.
There’s something grounding about learning the rhythm of a city—finding your regular coffee order, your favorite walking routes, the places you return to without thinking. In Dallas, those routines came naturally. Slowly, the city stopped feeling new and started feeling familiar.
We are now situated in Uptown Dallas with a proper apartment, a house filled with pictures from all of our travels, and things we’ve collected along the way. Dallas is the longest place we’ve lived since being married, and currently the place we call home. We often visit Fort Worth as it’s where our Texas story began and it will always have a special place in our hearts.
No matter what season you’re in—building a house, renting an apartment, or sharing space with roommates—there are always ways to ground yourself and make it your own. Home is made in the in-between—in borrowed spaces, short chapters, and the moments we decide to make them ours.
About the Author
Brooke Wadsworth lives in Dallas with her husband and their chocolate lab, Dublin. When she’s not writing for the magazine, she’s working on writing Romance novels from her favorite local coffee shops.