Saturday, March 12, 2011

A place, a place

A trundle bed, a dog.
A window, a pillow.
A home, a family.
A place, a place.

With every new place I find that my desire to learn is camouflaged by a desire to morph - to change, to mold into who people are instead of who I have yet to be. From where do these things come? Where do they find their roots? And will they ever be choked out by an overwhelming contentedness?

In Indiana, there is space. Standing on a small hill, I can look out over the vast expansion of crops at rest in the winter and think. But bitter wind and cold air has prevented me from doing so thus far, and so I will have to wait to think. I will have to absorb and experience until I can think, but then thinking will be great and my heart and mind will be at a better place to grow and hear.

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