Community, in my lived experience, is a very complicated thing. I think we all know that by now, even if we don’t necessarily say it out loud.

It’s not a concept always defined by where we live, or the names of the places we come from. More often than not, it’s shaped by what we care about. By the people we choose to show up for, the values we hold onto, and the moments that ask something of us—sometimes in small ways, sometimes in moments that change everything.

I think over time, I’ve come to understand community less as a place and more as a practice. Not something you declare, but something you do. An honest, ongoing choice to show up—for people we know, and sometimes for people we’ve never met, but recognize in some deeper way.

There are people I feel connected to across cities, states, even across the world. Not because we share a zip code, but because we share a sense of responsibility to one another. A belief that care doesn’t have to be earned to be given. That when something breaks, we don’t look away or wait to be asked. We just…show up.

For me this is one of those moments.