Tuesday was my late grandfather’s birthday. He was a rockhound.
He loved rocks so much that he once left my mother at her aunt’s house for a month because there wasn’t room for her and his collection of Monterey jade in the car.
And he left us these three pieces of Morgan Hill Poppy Jasper, found only in the small town where I grew up.
I keep them in my Turkish home connecting me to my Californian one. They are smooth, rounded and cool and make a sharp clinking sound when they touch each other.
They remind me where I’ve come from and though they aren’t native to Turkey, they have found a place here.
Belonging doesn’t really have any boundaries. I think it’s as much a state of mind as anything else, but it took me a long time to figure out that no matter where I am, that’s where I belong, and that’s where I can thrive.
Even if my foreignness sets me apart in this culture, I still have contributions to make. I still have an obligation to tap into my core in order to bring value to my community.
My grandfather’s stones are both grounded in a place, and mobile. They do not apologize for their origins, but rather boast their inherent traits wherever they go.
What is the unchanging part of you that goes where you do?
