As I sit in the airport returning from a place I used to call home to a place that doesn’t really feel like home anymore (and more like a place where my mail is sent), I mediate on what home means to me.
I wonder if it’s where you were born or where you bloomed. I wonder if it’s where you grew up or where you were transformed. I wonder if it’s where you feel safe or where you feel pushed to be the best version of yourself. As someone who has called many cities home, I feel as if I simply want to belong.
I want to belong to a place or a person or a feeling. I want to feel like I can be without trying. I want to feel like I can walk on the streets and not feel like a stranger at intersections. I want to feel like I can laugh without hesitating and love without validating.
I want to belong in a way that makes me feel seen, feel heard, and feel understood. I want to belong to a foundation but also not feel tethered to it. I want to feel like I can leave a piece of myself and still be able to return to a trail to find it.
I want to belong in a way that makes you feel like you can explore without inhibition. I want to belong in a way that feels like cozy socks and hot tea do on a cold, winter night. I want to belong in a way that feels like a hug you didn’t ask for but desperately needed. I want to belong in way that makes you want to take risks because you genuinely feel supported.
I want to belong, and maybe that begins by learning how to belong to myself. Read the rest on @medium
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