Where do you belong?

Yesterday our journal topic in Advanced Comp. was “where do you belong?”
A very simple question with not so simple answers. Several of the kids had a hard time getting started, and many were afraid to share their words with the class after squeezing a few lines onto their paper.
Why is it so difficult to put a finger on where we belong?
I was inspired by some of their answers. One said, “I know where I feel right and accepted…but don’t know if that is where I should belong.”
Another student’s piece inspired the question,”Is where you belong where you already are, or where you want to be?”
I tried writing with them and my mind went blank. All I could hear in my head were the lyrics to “Creep” by Radiohead:
“But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doin’ here?
I don’t belong here.
After an unsettling department meeting before class, the last lines repeated over and over.
I don’t belong here.
*** 

I know I belong here in my little town.
I know I belong here with my little family.
I just don’t know if I belong HERE.
In this place I inhabit every week day for about 8 hours.
The question haunts me on a daily basis.
It doesn’t make it any easier when this girl screams and reaches for the babysitter when I pick her up in the afternoons.
 Can you imagine seeing this face CRY when you reach to pick her up?
I know people say that it’s normal and I shouldn’t get upset. But it hurts…bad. I know it would probably hurt worse if she cried every time we dropped her off, knowing she hated going to the baby sitter. I know we are blessed beyond measure to have such a nurturing, loving, beautiful environment for her to be in for those 8 hours a day, five days a week. But it still hurts…bad.
So the same question still haunts me. You know the drill. I’ve written about it countless times.
Until it’s fixed, it is all I know how to do.

This morning I tried again. 

Where do I belong?

I belong

busy
in the sun
in the breeze
wrapped in a song
one hand in hers
one hand in yours
free
feet feeling grass
people
helping
loving
singing
dancing
happy
I belong
on cobblestone streets
one hand in hers
one hand in yours
out of my comfort zone
in a farmhouse
in a small town
in love
with family
laughing
helping
I belong
busy
in the sun
in the breeze
wrapped in a song
one hand in hers
one hand in yours
free
I think it’s important to answer this question, as hard as it may be. I know my response will continue to evolve as life changes. I guess all we can hope for is that where we belong is where we end up. 

Or is where we end up, where we really belong?

 

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