People say that “home is where the heart is”. I agree. My heart is in many places, however. So is my “home”. I’m home with my brothers in their respective houses in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. I’m home with my parents and grandmother in Bryn Mawr, PA. I’m home in New York City, in New England, and in parts of California. Home is in nature and on a bike.

Lately, and I’ve felt it before, I’m just not sure where I belong. Even from a young age, I’ve always had a strong sense of self. I know who I am, and how I want to be. I know where I feel at home. And even though I do not yet own an apartment, a condo, or a house, I’m fortunate to have little nests of friends and family on both coasts. But, “where am I supposed to be? Where do I belong?” I ask myself and God.

Some might say, “you’re supposed to be where you want to be.” The choice is a privilege that I don’t take lightly, especially in this day and age where masses of people are displaced by wars and natural disasters – I’m truly grateful for all that I have.

While on a ride, I confessed feeling a little lost to a friend and he offered these words by Maya Angelou in response:

“You only are free when you realize you belong no place — you belong every place — no place at all.”

Thank you, Aaron.