home is where the crowd is.
when you have no family in a place you call home, what then do you consider home to mean? what provides that sense of home to you. for anyone in search of said feelings, tonight was a night that would have given you your sense-of-belonging fix. i gathered with a countless number of fine souls who convened in one strip of sparse grass for one main reason: to listen to music. i watched them all. some drank wine from plastic glasses while passing guacamole that had started to turn, others ate homemade brownies from shiny tinfoil, some fancily bit cubes of pineapple from wooden skewers, couples held hands and small children with knotty hair grabbed one another and jumped around in unison. if i were alone, if i were feeling no sense of home, this is where i'd want to be. with the breeze came warmth: the collective body heat produced was comforting. i didn't know one neighbor from the other, but we were all smiling, all enjoying ourselves and not questioning what would otherwise be an invasion of personal space. for once, this invasion was welcomed. if the dictionary could have images next to the word home, this would be in full color upon that page. and one of the more pronounced synonyms for home would be community.