It is unamerican to not have a place. How can we know our place if we do not have one? If all Americans had a place, then I would be there and content. My father left us no place and his father left him no place. I come from a fairly long line of people born into nothing substantial here, from across the sea where we didn’t have a place either.
I never knew I had no place, becuase no one told us it was not our land...or our estuary, as most of the time no one else was there. Most of what I had thought was my place was a sewer for government and industrial operations up river.
I could have earned a very small bit of that place and paid for the right to live there by earning that too. I knew the rules, the rules were clearly presented. Americans have no place unless they earn it or have it given to them by someone who did.
I loved that estuary, and hated leaving, but I had to, as my share was too small to keep the way things are done, and so I took it and used it for college and grad school. Maybe I could have stayed, but the taxes were high too...and the flooding was only getting worse.
I had not lived there for some time when we sold it, all of us, but I did not want to. My parents were dead, and only I really loved the place...most of them were far away. They wanted to sell.
The Hurricane severely damaged most of the homes on the estuary in 2012. It was not my place any more by then, and it never had been. My place was sinking before we got there, and will be under water soon enough. I knew my place well enough to know that.
I go home in my dreams, and wake up not knowing where I am. I am in a place, but not my place...not on my estuary, not with my people...none of whom are there either. I know the difference and wish sometimes that life was different . I feel adrift, and know why.