Four and a half years ago, we moved to Miami somewhat under duress.

This week, we’re leaving and starting a new life in Nashville after what’s been the slowest, most gentle, intentional move I’ve ever made.

We came to Miami to heal. We just didn’t realize it would be in ways far beyond the obvious.

Mike was incredibly sick with a mysterious illness, and his full-time job was recovery.

I was seething in resentment, feeling burdened by being the primary parent and keeping our business going.

The thick, humid air enveloped me in a maternal, luscious hug I didn’t know I’d been craving just as fast as it made my curls go limp.

Flat hair was a sacrifice I was willing to make in exchange for the profound, visceral feeling of freedom I didn’t realize I’d never had before.

We intended to stay for two months, extended to five, then sold our house without going back to Maine first. We’d packed for a month away, but didn’t return for six—only to say a quiet, posthumous goodbye to the life I thought I was building.

Just two days ago, our Miami chapter closed. As you read this, I’m on the road with the girls—leaving one version of life behind, and driving toward another.

Our culture doesn’t do a great job with endings, IMHO. We’re so avoidant when it comes to sadness (well…feelings in general) that we numb, ignore, pretend, or push down our grief.

What I’ve learned is this: the more we honor our endings, the more powerful our beginnings become.

So I wanted to write a love letter to Miami for the things this beautiful, pulsing, fully EXTRA city has given me…and to offer to you that whatever threshold you find yourself on, actually being in the transition, with the grief, the joy, the anxiety…and most especially, the gratitude, is an excellent way to wrangle your power and co-create the most beautiful life possible.

Dear Miami,

Thank you for not caring who I was or what I was up to. For being a city where we truly are free to be you and me. No one could ever be too much for Miami, and that expansive permission has been medicinal.

Thank you for giving me space to be anonymous, to be more of myself, to let parts of me out that had never seen the light of day, or perhaps just not in a really long time. I felt sexy here. I felt so alive.

Thank you for being a big pond so I could spread my gills and let myself be as big (or small) of a fish as I wanted to be on any given day.

Thank you for the healing powers of your ocean, for being a safe space to feel it all, and for being the land on which I rewired my body and brain to feel safe right now without anything needing to change.

Thank you for widening my scope in the most necessary ways, for your richness on all levels, and for being the ground upon which we finally let go.

Thank you for helping Mike heal and for helping us find each other again, and also in ways we never had before.

Thank you for sisterhood and expansion.

Thank you for requiring my girls to build stronger senses of internal safety in order to navigate all you have to offer.

My whole life up until we made this unexpected move, I knew I was holding back (in every area), but I didn’t know how to be all of me.

Miami, you allowed me to go BIG in ways I never could have imagined. And for that, I’ll forever be grateful for the indelible mark you left on me and my family.

Love, Kate

This is your loving reminder: the more present we are to change, the more willing we become to let it shape us into something even more true.

What chapter are you closing?
What chapter are you stepping into?
How can you mark the transition in a way that feels meaningful?

Whether you just got here or you’ve been around for this entire last chapter, I can’t wait to see what the next one holds for all of us!

With plenty of presence,
Kate