Land. A simple word yet it holds so much emphasis. Defined as, “a solid part of the surface of the earth.” When I think of land, though, I think of home. I think of that place where the water runs cold out of the tap until the pipe clears. I think of that place where no matter how sick you are, it is always the best place to be. I think of that place where it does not matter who you are, because when you are there, you are perfect, loved, flawless, and happy. I think of that place that I cannot wait to get to every day when I am tired from working. Home. Land. I love the sound of these words. My land is borrowed from my parents; it has a house, a garage, a deck, a porch and a clothesline where I have hung clothes to dry for over 20 years. I was raised on this land, in this home, and even though I live there alone now, I still hear the echoes of their voices in the walls. I realize the great blessing I have because some people do not have land or a home; I have both. However, every time I trim my rosebush or dig in the dirt with my niece, I am reminded of how grateful I am to have this land and that home. I only wish that I could give my kind of land to the rest of the world.

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This is a beautiful piece of land...You have described your land with so much simplicity, and yet there are so many emotions hidden!

All the best Khushbu

Khushbu Agrawal

Many thanks for your compliments! I'm glad you could feel the emotion in my writing. Sometimes I am afraid it doesn't come across, but I cannot write unless I feel it.

I read your piece about IDPs. I am well read on the subject from my education, but you put a life to it. You put a face to the problem. That is something that we need more of in this world. I commend you for your writing, keep going and I'll keep reading.

A tribute to how place and land steady our hearts, souls, minds...I can feel that place of yours. I wish I could see it. I too love my home, my neighborhood plot with its terribly tall pine trees, blueberry bushes, strawberry beds. Hummingbirds, robins, monarch butterflies, crows, the neighborhood cats, my husband, friends, family, neighbors- we all share this small plot of Portland land and feel rooted- home is land- I agree.

I'm so glad you can feel it and I wish you could see it. The sound of your berries though, makes me want to take a trip West for a visit! I appreciate your kind words.