Gertrude Stein is one of my favorite writers, a complete genius I would argue and a woman with vision. She once said, "America is my country, and Paris is my hometown." When I first read that, my body resonated with her words, I could feel my heartbeat quicken and my blood begin to rush. The idea captivated me. Where you are born is undoubtedly where your roots first sprout, but the place you call home...that could be an ocean away. People, I have begun to realize spend their whole lives trying to find their home. They try and find it in a job, in a mate, and worst of all, they'll claim they don't need one.
My home is not a building. There is no roof over my head in the place I feel at peace. I have always, and will always be a person where mobility is my motherland. When I am in motion, I am at peace. I could be on a sidewalk, in a car, on an airplane. Those are the moments where I can say I breathe without thinking and all is right. Yet, there is something about the small town sidewalks of where I grew up. I sometimes laugh to myself and think what those white pieces of concrete would say to me if given the chance. How many conversations it was forced to hear about boys, school, and dramatic endeavors. How many lessons they had prayed I would just learn already. And how many laughs and tears were shared on its body.
So tonight as I listen to Hans Zimmer lull my heart back to a functional pace, I look out onto the sidewalks that let me walk all over them. We all need something concrete in our lives, and sometimes, it's really as simply as a square of white cement.