In the spirit of trying to write more in my surroundings and embrace my natural environment with children jumping over and behind me, I type. And I thank Crystal Stine for the invitation that I found on her Twitter feed last night, very, very late. I am thankful also for the mocha that kept me awake long enough to force myself to have quiet, solo personal time while little eyelids rested next door.
As I type this, we are visiting a very tiny, intimate community in coastal Oregon. And our family feels that our souls belong here each July. We belong to nature. We belong to the familiar faces we saw last year, and the year before. We belong to the dear friends we’ve made who we only see here, now. While we’re in Oregon.
And I also think about the friends and family – and the blending of the two – we left behind in Texas. As we left our friends at the curbside dropoff at the airport, I cried tears of thankfulness for our friends – and sadness for the sweet little faces of children I will miss while we are far and away in Oregon. We belong with them.
I write this with so much thankfulness that we belong to different communities in this season of our lives. And that somehow, for today, I belong to a group of writers who also write for a free five minutes.