Not the kind that announces itself, no trumpet, no parade. It shows up quiet, like a door left cracked open you didn’t know was there.
It doesn’t ask you to forget the old roads. It just walks beside you on a new one, patient, unhurried, like it’s got nowhere else to be.
You learn its name the way you learn a song — not all at once, but line by line, until one day you’re humming it without trying.
That’s the kind worth keeping.