A Place to Call Home


Downtown San Diego is blanketed in a gray mist. Unfortunately, the blanket is chilling me to the bone instead of warming me. As I sit on the balcony overlooking the other high-rise buildings of the city, I wonder if all cities are pretty much the same. Do the buildings look the same? Do the cities have the same aroma? Do the same background noises fill the air? I hear the squeaking brakes of a stopping bus, the wind pushing its way between the buildings, and the occasional siren drowning out all other sounds. The sounds of the city are so different from the sounds of my home in the suburbs, yet surprisingly, I can hear one familiar sound – the sound of tweeting birds. Even here amongst the towers of concrete and glass, the birds have found a place to build their nests, and a place to call home.

In the distance nestled between the buildings, the American flag is fluttering in the wind. Like the birds, the flag does not need special surroundings, just a place to live. Isn’t that what we all need? A place to live. A place to exist. A place to feel safe. A place to breathe in and out. A place with everything we need to get us to that next moment. It may be a moment of joy or sadness, but a moment nonetheless. We should be thankful for being alive, shouldn’t we? Thankful for being given this moment of existence and everything leading up to it. Just like the flag or the bird – it is just a place like any other, yet somehow a home.

Birds adapt to their surroundings, as do people. It doesn’t really matter where you live – just ‘that’ you live. At times in the city I find myself unable to sleep because of the number of sounds I am unaccustomed to hearing. Sometimes I like the sounds because it is comforting – I realize I am not alone. I look around and see an array of empty balconies in the adjacent building. There must be people somewhere? For the moment I am feeling alone even though I am surrounded by sleeping people. I am awake. Alive. Breathing. Living. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Why am I here alone at 6:20 AM on a balcony observing the city while everyone else sleeps? Somehow I have found myself in a place called home.

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