New Beginnings and Finding Light [Video]

Some homes don’t look like blessings from the outside, but they carry you through seasons you didn’t know how you’d survive.

Before Brooklyn, there was Queens.

That apartment was everything to me — not because it was perfect, but because it was the first place I unlocked knowing I was about to become someone’s mother. It was where I learned how to make something out of very little. Where love had to do most of the heavy lifting.

I got the keys on Valentine’s Day in 2020. COVID followed almost immediately. I was pregnant, uncertain, and starting over with almost nothing. A few months later, on June 5, 2020, Autumn was born, and that apartment became the only world she knew in her earliest years.

It was a rent-stabilized unit, based on my income at the time. I didn’t have much when I returned to New York, so having a place of my own felt unreal. We were fed. We were warm in the winter. Cool enough in the summer. In many ways, it felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from.

But living there wasn’t easy.

There were rodents. Roaches. Water bugs. Neighbors who didn’t care, living right next to the trash incinerator room. My mother lived across the hall, which helped… and complicated things at the same time. Still, I kept the apartment clean. Decorated. Peaceful where I could make it peaceful. I needed it to feel like home, because for us, it was.

The space was long and narrow — a one-bedroom with six closets, an elongated living room and bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a small kitchen tucked into a corner. There was an elevator that worked, even though we lived on the second floor. There was a laundry room too. It was just far. Far from everything. And over time, it became heavy.

I carried the stress quietly. Anxiety settled in slowly. COVID kept the world closed, my credit wasn’t great, and I didn’t have the energy to be around people. I stayed inside longer than I should have, trying to make it work because it was all I knew — until one day, it wasn’t enough anymore.

I went back to work at the hospital I had been with before leaving New York in 2018. I saved. I stayed focused. And when I finally felt steady enough, I started looking.

Eventually, we found Brooklyn.

Video

This apartment isn’t perfect either. It’s a three-story walk-up, tall ceilings meaning four long flights of stairs. No elevator. No laundry room. But the space feels different.

The kitchen is huge compared to what we had before — cabinets everywhere, counter space that actually allows you to spread out. The living room is comfortable. The bathroom is small, but manageable. And now, there are two spacious bedrooms.

What changed everything, though, was the light.

The Queens apartment had two sets of windows — one in the bedroom and one in the living room.

This apartment has nine.

Sunlight moves through the space all day, climbing the tall ceilings and filling rooms that once felt closed in. During the tour, I didn’t hesitate. The kitchen and the windows felt like air. Like relief. Like a quiet yes.

It isn’t luxury. It isn’t new. But it is ours. And once again, we did what we’ve always done — we made it work.

I’m proud of the choices that brought us here. Proud of the strength it took to leave a place that once felt like safety, even when it became hard. Proud that my daughter now grows in a brighter, calmer environment because I didn’t stop trying — even when I was tired, anxious, and carrying more than I ever said out loud.

Not every ending needs fireworks.

Some endings are soft.

And sometimes, that softness is healing.