I was in kindergarten when I was given my first pen pal for a class assignment. The task: Write a letter once a week to someone from another classroom, making sure to ask at least one question with the goal of getting to know our partners better. At just six years old, I was taught the importance of communicating with intention.

I’ve always been well acquainted with boredom. When I was younger, my boredom fueled my imagination as I turned my uncle’s feather duster into a ballerina or rooted for raindrops racing across the windshield. But as I grew older, boredom became something much more meaningful: a tool for me to find a sense of home.