The day I came to this town to look for an apartment, preparing to move here and be far away from my family for the first time in my life, my mom suggested we kill some time by going for coffee at the local coffee shop. We sat sipping our drinks and talking over the apartments we’d seen so far, and I concentrated on memorizing every line and speckle of the crazy lamp on our table in an attempt to occupy my brain with anything other than the desperate loneliness that was threatening to overwhelm me.

Four and a half years later I bought a cup of coffee, spread out my newly acquired coloring pencils and watercolors on the table, and looked up only to realize that I was sitting there next to the very same lamp. And so, for the next three hours as I set color to paper, I contemplated how much has changed since that first spring afternoon. And how little.