For any of the following to make sense, you must read this post on belonging by Molly O'Neill. Go now. I'll wait until you get back.
Thinking about my belonging to something, I realize there are two that immediately strike me. The first is my home state of Utah. Most people don't realize how incredibly beautiful it is here. Often I don't either, at least until
I move away for a few months or years. Then I start to ache for my mountains. Actually, I get lost without them. How else am I supposed to know which way is east?
And in almost striking contrast, farther south along the highway are the glorious red deserts of central and southern Utah. The first morning of waking up, bundling up in sweatshirts and blankets as the sun just begins to rise, and peeking my head outside the tent to a vista of absolute perfection is something I can only describe as spiritual.
Those places have been my home for longer than my memories trace back. They are my birthplace and most likely my final resting place. Though I always long to see new places, I cannot leave my home for long.
In the past few weeks, though, I've begun building a home within that home. This home is largely empty now, though the walls shine with brilliant colors of various hues, still damp from the recent application of paint. Piece by piece, that space will be filled with chairs and shelves, followed soon after by books. Lots and lots of books. The best kinds of books, too. Those especially for kids and teens.
The walls are still bare and I've yet to have boxes of books cross the threshold, but that place is mine. It has already claimed me. Every morning I unlock the door, flick on the lights and open the blinds. Then I see it, and it welcomes me. I could spend hours lying on that floor, looking up at the gorgeous walls, noticing each piece as it finds a place.
Soon enough, this store will claim children as well, and teens and mothers and fathers and anyone who wants a place to read and laugh and live.
A friend commented the other day on how this store is me, that it is taking on my personality and becoming part of myself. I daresay she's right. I hope she's right, because that way I can give the best part of myself to others, to give them love and belonging when they may not know how to find it anywhere else.
I belong there because it is part of me, and I am part of it. I can't imagine a greater gift in life.
Michelle who belongs to Fire Petal Books
Thinking about my belonging to something, I realize there are two that immediately strike me. The first is my home state of Utah. Most people don't realize how incredibly beautiful it is here. Often I don't either, at least until
I move away for a few months or years. Then I start to ache for my mountains. Actually, I get lost without them. How else am I supposed to know which way is east?
And in almost striking contrast, farther south along the highway are the glorious red deserts of central and southern Utah. The first morning of waking up, bundling up in sweatshirts and blankets as the sun just begins to rise, and peeking my head outside the tent to a vista of absolute perfection is something I can only describe as spiritual.
Those places have been my home for longer than my memories trace back. They are my birthplace and most likely my final resting place. Though I always long to see new places, I cannot leave my home for long.
In the past few weeks, though, I've begun building a home within that home. This home is largely empty now, though the walls shine with brilliant colors of various hues, still damp from the recent application of paint. Piece by piece, that space will be filled with chairs and shelves, followed soon after by books. Lots and lots of books. The best kinds of books, too. Those especially for kids and teens.
The walls are still bare and I've yet to have boxes of books cross the threshold, but that place is mine. It has already claimed me. Every morning I unlock the door, flick on the lights and open the blinds. Then I see it, and it welcomes me. I could spend hours lying on that floor, looking up at the gorgeous walls, noticing each piece as it finds a place.
Soon enough, this store will claim children as well, and teens and mothers and fathers and anyone who wants a place to read and laugh and live.
A friend commented the other day on how this store is me, that it is taking on my personality and becoming part of myself. I daresay she's right. I hope she's right, because that way I can give the best part of myself to others, to give them love and belonging when they may not know how to find it anywhere else.
I belong there because it is part of me, and I am part of it. I can't imagine a greater gift in life.
Michelle who belongs to Fire Petal Books
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