… or is it just for the moment?
Yesterday, someone asked me where I am from.
I struggled with the question and more with the answer. It turns out it’s not as easy as it sounds.
Well where were you born?
The Philippines? What were you doing there?
Well, I didn’t have a lot of say in the matter, but it was as good a place as anywhere to be born. My Dad was busy tramping around the jungle and making friends with the last of the headhunters. He had an uncanny way of fitting in anywhere.
When we left the Philippines, we settled in California.
So you’re a Californian?
Well, sort of, but most of our close friends were from elsewhere and it’s where my Grandmother ended up with her sisters, but they were from the Blue Earth area of Minnesota. From the old Winnebago now Ho-Chunk stopping off from all their “removals” area. But they were always trekking back and forth between Minnesota, Colorado, Montana, Washington, Arizona, and California. I’m not sure they thought of themselves as set either. They traveled the mountain passes of the West by whatever means they had. They were quietly fearless. But my Mom’s family is from Virginia and they’ve been there since 1607 so if someone has roots it’s her.
So, you consider yourself a Virginian?
No, not really. I was only in Tidewater Virginia for a total of 5 years. I lived in the D.C. area for 9. I lived in New York and Connecticut for 25 years. Maybe, that’s where I’ve been the longest, but I definitely don’t consider myself from there.
So, where do you consider yourself from?
It’s a good question.
And so here I am. I am here at the moment. In Texas.
I am of the moment.
Living in the moment is as good a place to begin and end as any.
The view from my window is beautiful and I am mindful of my moment in its midst.
And so I write.
It’s a good moment.