Sorry for the typo in the title yesterday. Thanks, Lisa, for letting me know.

The soft summer breeze whispers through the leaves as I expertly weave string lights across the patio. Each connection, each knot, feels automatic. Every perfectly spaced bulb brings a quiet satisfaction. My fingers know exactly what to do, a learned efficiency born from an unlikely past.

But unlike the many times I strung lights for strangers' homes during my TaskRabbit days, today, a different feeling washes over me – a deep sense of gratitude.

Back then, TaskRabbit was my proving ground, a platform where people like me were called upon to hang TVs, assemble furniture, anything that required a helping hand and some basic know-how. String lights, of course, were a frequent request.

Standing beneath a web of lights back then, I couldn't help but think, "Is this really where I envisioned myself?" My path had taken a sharp turn. A decade of running my own restaurant, a dream built in another country, was abruptly snuffed out by the pandemic. Here I was, in a new land, my visa expired, forced to take on any job that wouldn't require a work permit.