“Inhabitant”

Day 101, #2026bigyearproject

Where do you belong? Are you in a place where you feel at ease? Do you sense that you were destined to land there? Have you planted a flag and declared your righteous position?

The difference between where I was born and where I live now is vast, about 7,800 miles. Who would have predicted this location shift?

My birth weight was barely five pounds. According to an old story, one of my grandmothers wailed, “How can we pay to bury this child?”

It was a shaky beginning.

Fortunately, I flourished and, as Mama told me proudly, I consumed enough to look like a plump pillow. Crisis averted. No funeral needed. My spirit made itself comfortable in this body.

The first decades of my life were nomadic. I never stayed at one address more than four years. I got accustomed to being the new kid at school, but became shy and awkward outside of our circle of family and close friends.

Home was tethered by what I carted from place to place. I gathered all my dolls for a goodbye when we left the Philippines. We could only board the airplane with a few small suitcases and bags, so my toys remained. My dad met us at the airport, carrying a new baby doll for me, a tiny camera for my brother, and a small accordion for my sister.

Fun fact: I became a mom. My brother is a photographer. My sister was a music major.

My college belongings fit into a small trunk, which got transported to various dorm rooms until graduation. A futon, that same trunk, and various accoutrements were jammed into my parents’ Nova for the move to my first apartment. One yellow ginger jar lamp has come with me for fifty years.

The house we occupy today has been our shelter for almost twenty-five years. That thought astounds me and my husband, who was also a nomad. Our daughter, son-in-law, and grrrand-pups live nearby. We have been rooted here for a quarter century!

Last year, my hubby and I packed our car with a few supplies and went on a month-long road trip. We learned that we needed very little.

It might be nice to think that I could pare down my stuff and become a minimalist. I understand that my stash of yarn, colored markers, and scads of books could disappear today and I would be fine. (Of course, I might restock fairly quickly!)

Perhaps I hold vestiges of those first tenuous hours I spent on Earth, when my soul was poised between this world and the next. Back then, I had to choose whether to fully inhabit the portion of the universe assigned to me.

I have come to an understanding that my presence has nothing to do with what I own.

It’s not important what I hold. What matters is what holds me.

***

Are you reading this because we know each other or you are already familiar with my work?

Were we aligned because of a mysterious pull that caught us in the same web?

Have you reached this spot because prophecy foretold the encounter?

Whatever the reason, welcome! Thank you for focusing on this essay for a portion of your day.

#2026bigyearproject