I slept soundly last night. In my childhood bedroom, the clouded moonlight ghosting through the open windows. It was chilly and the air was clean, fresh, almost fall-like. The first place I ever belonged. It's for sale now, my parents planning to move closer to their kids.
Belonging...to place...is it where you feel peaceful, calm? The place that makes you smile when you look at the twilight skies or hear the name of the state or see the skyline from the plane as it is landing?
My childhood belonging was different then - as I sought to leave - to belong to something else. Going back now thought I can feel the pull, enveloped in nostalgia and bittersweet tones, the feeling of safety and the memories of summer and snow.
For the past almost decade I have belonged to another place and again I am leaving even though my heart clings to it...
I took some photos this weekend, the first bit of creativity in over a month. Perhaps I am ready to belong somewhere else or perhaps I now realize that the places I have belonged to will always belong to me?