The rules are pretty simple. One word. Five minutes of writing. No editing.
I don't always feel like I belong.
I belong by the water where waves crash and lap up on the shore.
I belong at the bottom of a mountain waiting to hike up.
I belong hand in hand with my hubby.
I belong at the top of a snowy bank readying myself for the adrenaline of boarding down it.
I belong on a start line of a triathlon waiting to hear the air-horn push me off into the water.
I belong in a rocking chair with my babies snuggled up close.
I belong in a room where I can hear the raindrops falling onto the roof.
I belong where sand gets between my toes.
I belong where hippies, tree-huggers, lumberjacks, trail nerds and farmers collide.
I belong at that spot on the rocks that I can feel the spray from the waterfall.
I belong where coffee is it's own language.
I belong by the river banks eating apple sour leafs.
I belong where you can see I can see my toes in touching the bottom of the river while I wade through.
I belong along that trail.
I belong where the air is touched with salt.
I belong where trees are thick and can tell stories.
I belong there.
That's where I feel at peace and whole.
Sometimes I feel myself fringed at the edges and realize that I am not where I belong.
My heart longs to go.
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