Sense of Place.

In high school I had an alarm clock that would wake me up to a CD. For the longest time the CD I had in it was the All-American Rejects. Every morning the first thing I heard was "please just don't play with me, my paper heart will bleed."

This evening my music shuffle hit that song as I'm sitting here in my little living room above the garage. And, I remember all those mornings...

I would wake up and get dressed to this music. It is connected to a sense of place. A sense of place that I have had a rocky relationship with for the past four years. I grasped it for about three days in France (then we left). It was a fleeting moment with my wonderful friends senior year. Now I am sitting on my couch with Stella by my side. This is my place.

The other day, boss the elder asked when I would be leaving - the first of the year? he inquired. I looked at him and stated I had no such plans. He doesn't see what this place would have to offer me.

Sense of place is a constantly shifting idea. It changes as we change. Right now, my sense of place is completed when I'm sitting in the living room with my family - my youngest brother resting on me and has just fallen asleep, Lewis cracking a joke and Dad laughing uproariously. That is my place. It's the car rides home from Nappanee with the high school two and the impromptu dance parties in the living room before their guests arrive.

I feel it in the fields. They are so different everyday. It is as if these back-roads and I were destined to be together for a very long time.