Even if your foundations are shifting, embrace the small things that tether you to this good earth. A neighborhood cat swimming its body between your legs. The rainbows that your prism sheds in a new rented room. The smell of tomato leaves crushed underfoot. And if you’re still unraveling what rootedness means to you, write a letter to your future home — down to the chip in the bathroom tile. And address everything that no longer passes the threshold of your life’s inner sanctum. It will be cathartic and clarifying.