I Might Yet Belong

Written at the Nashville Airport, 3/13/15

I want to belong.

I don’t know how to do it.

I keep seeking to be the stranger in the room.

Right now, I’m in a corner of the airport looking out at the planes landing on puddles. I’m about to join a flight, too.

There will be failures on board; and hope; and longing; and worries; and pain. In a matter of moments, we’ll all be heading the same direction, but for some two hundred different reasons. 

Who among us will find home upon arrival?

I’m still looking. 

I’m not running away. 

I’m intently seeking to find something to hold and love. 

There is love everywhere and so I am fine with sitting still, but people ask me to do stuff and culture shows me how to act. 

So, I move to appease the nagging and enact a silly dance to assuage the longing.

If I could stop looking for comfort in nostalgia, and not seek freedom in the unpredictable promise of some better life just around the corner, I might yet belong right here.