Mine

The turbulence from the weather over San Diego made me nervous as I watched the blanket of clouds come closer below us. I longed to dip into them, to get under the turbulent layer and onto the ground. I had been watching the clouds for a good portion of the flight, being a meteorology student and all.

As the thick cloud enveloped us, I felt a sense of belonging- to that substance, that mist surrounding the plane. Getting under the stratus layer was like ducking under the surface of the ocean, a completely different world from the one we descended from. But as the high rises of downtown poked into view, I felt it again. My cloud. My city. Mine.

It occurred to me that the word "mine" has two meanings. That which belongs to me, and that which I belong to. I do not own this city, this land, certainly not this misty layer of cloud. But it owns me. It possesses me in the way that so much of me is made up by this city, these clouds, my friends and family.

I've heard it said that it is not noble to be owned by someone or something. To be held captive by possessions or places, or things.

Cut an astronaut loose from his tether to his ship, and you will see a man owned by nothing at all. And if that is a pretty sight, then yes, perhaps you should avoid being possessed by anything at all, and by all costs.

As I tied my shoes to go take the trash out this morning, Charlotte walked by and kissed my shoulder. I smiled. Mine. Because she owns a piece of my heart that will always be hers.

Being back in San Diego, I felt that belonging that I always feel when I'm back there, but more so than normal. I was blessed with the ability to see quite a few friends in such a short time, and it was soothing to be pulled back by that tether and safe at my origin. All that which owns me. Mine.