Family. The people I know, regardless of my path, got my back. And those to whom I will always come if you call. The ones we trust. The ones we say love to, and they understand. We tell each other how we belong not to prove that we should, but to remind each other that here — home — we are safe. We will always be safe.

Family is our harbor against the storm.

I have traveled much and settled sparingly. And in always going, I have found family all over this land. People whose hands I have touched and whose hands have held me. People who I have fed and been fed in return. People who even before I came, already knew me. Beings who, for no reason other than some shared vibration, choose to trust me. And I have trusted in return, seeking protection and safe passing. We have not abandoned one another.

And though the road is pocked full of holes and the incline steep and dangerous, I will continue my journey, seeking and finding. Giving and taking. Loving and being loved. Making and being family.

The risk of injury is always subordinate, in my heart, to the journey.


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