I’m sitting on one of the benches in Lincoln Park, nestled in the heart of Capitol Hill. It’s a breezy, perfect fall morning - the kind that feels like a fresh start. An older Black woman, dressed head-to-toe in pink and red (hair included), is playing catch with her dog. I’m not sure what breed it is, but it’s beautiful. I pull out my phone to capture the moment, but of course, I miss it. Shucks.
I wouldn’t call myself outdoorsy per-se, but I love parks, and I’m grateful D.C. has so many of them.
I had originally planned to write a different post, but after the events of this past week, this feels more fitting. Don’t worry, I still plan to share the small joys that have carried me through these last few months. As much as I want this space to hold my reflections on heavy topics and thought-provoking questions, I also want it to feel like a respite. After all, this blog is meant to be about my parallel worlds - the hard and the soft, the serious and the light.
Speaking of which, the response to my last post was overwhelmingly kind - thank you! I received voice notes, DMs, and texts from many of you sharing how much it resonated. There’s comfort in knowing you’re not the only one moving through a particular season.
Which brings me to something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: community. How we find it. How we build it. How we keep it.
When I moved to D.C. nearly four years ago, I was terrified. It was my first time living alone. I didn’t know who I’d become here or who I’d find. Since then, I’ve made connections I know will last many lifetimes. My community is a patchwork of people I met in run club, F45 classes, tennis lessons, work, my apartment building, and random encounters throughout the city. And then there’s the friend I met on Twitter over a decade ago, who is now one of my closest friends. Through her, I was introduced to a group of wonderful women who have now become constants in my life.
All of that to say: I’ve found my community everywhere, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful.
As an introvert (shocking, I know), making friends isn’t what I struggle with - it’s what comes after. It’s the watering, the nurturing, the intentionality it takes to turn casual encounters into something lasting. Building community as an adult requires effort. Unlike when we were kids, it’s no longer enough to simply be in the same place at the same time.
We are far past the days of “community by proximity.” We are older, wiser, a little more bruised. Life demands more from us now. It demands that we surround ourselves with people who see us, who hold space for us, who stay - not because they have to, but because they want to. There’s a difference, y’know?
Every day, I thank God for bringing my people to me. Whether by divine alignment or the universe conspiring on my behalf, we found each other. They’ve become my soft landing - the place I can laugh until I cry, cry until I’m okay again, and be reminded that I don’t have to carry it all alone. That I can be messy, flawed, and still worthy of love.
You don’t have to look far to see how heavy the world feels right now - it’s everywhere. Which is why finding your people matters more than ever.
Here’s what I’ve learned about building community as an adult:
You don’t need a crowd. Seek out the people who make you feel more like yourself, not less. Whether it’s one person or five, what matters is that you feel safe and seen.
Go first. Be the one who invites, checks in, follow up. Show the kind of consistency you wish someone would give you. Ego has no room here.
Create shared rituals. A standing coffee walk. A monthly dinner. A book club. Remember the group of women I mentioned earlier - the ones who are now constants in my life? Well, we met through book club, and what started as a shared love for reading turned into something sacred. Our group chat is always buzzing. We’ve celebrated engagements, marriage, promotions, and our first book club baby is on her way. It doesn’t have to be books for you, but whatever it is, find it and hold on.
Be honest. Be willing to show up messy, uncertain, and vulnerable. And then make room for others to do the same.
Lastly, let trust grow slowly. Community isn’t built in a day. Follow your intuition. Peel back the layers one at a time. It’s okay to be cautious. If it’s meant to be, it will find its way.
Adultin’ is hard enough; there’s no need to go at it alone. If you are still looking for your people, don’t give up. You’re not too late, too complicated, or too much. The kind of connection you’re hoping for? It’s real. And it’s worth building. Especially right now.
At the Crossing: Finding your people won’t make life perfect, but it does make the weight a little lighter. And maybe that’s the point - to remember we were never meant to carry it all alone.
Until the next avenue,
–J.