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    Coming Home

    If you ask me, I’ve been running since birth. Running away from the expectations of others for me, running away from home, running away from those who wished me well by wishing I’d stay put, running away from boys pretending to be men, running away from anything that didn’t make me feel free. Running. Running. Stop. 

    That’s the thing about running, eventually, the race comes to an end, an opponent catches up with you, or you collapse from dehydration. The things we’re running from always end up catching up to us – especially when we’re trying to run away from ourselves. 

    This summer though, I finally stood still. I had to finish my Master’s and that meant being, living, and working in South Africa for three months. Partially because life’s circumstances forced me to. Partially because I had no where else to go. Partially because I got tired. I finally got tired of my inability to forgive and forget, of holding on to hurt the perpetrator is no longer thinking about, of my need to fix people – of not seeing myself. I got tired of not seeing myself. Of not being able to hear my own voice. Of only being vaguely sure what I wanted. Of not knowing my own power. Of not protecting my heart. Of not being sure of my soul. I got tired and so I simply stopped. Stopped postulating and primping. Stopped trying to make myself care about things I no longer do. Just stopped. 

    If I’m being honest, stillness freaks me out. Makes me feel trapped. Stability and security have rarely been my ministry. Maybe it’s because adulthood is no longer looming, it’s here, or because I’d never physically felt my heart break before, or because Penn took so much out of me, or because I knew I needed to do the inner work to prepare for all I believe is coming my way, but suddenly, stillness was all I wanted. Solitude. Space to sit with my shit. 

    I stopped running. 

    Stuff I had been avoiding finally caught up to me. Some pain I thought long healed rose to the surface. Some complexes I didn’t realize I had manifested. 

    But you know what also happened? God leaned in my direction. Clarity came to meet me. My voice somehow reappeared. My body garnered a newfound appreciation for itself. My soul grew sure. 

    “It may be long to get me there, it feels like I’ve been everywhere, but someday, I’ll be coming home.”
    – Coming Home x John Legend

    I’ve always loved that song. Always felt like I could feel at home anywhere – my parents house, a University in England, on boulders at the Cape of Good Hope, the basement. Many homes, many public’s, many discourses. All having one thing in common, they existed outside of myself. 

    But when I stopped running, I was finally able to construct the only home that matters which is the one I call my own. 

    I became a woman who knows how to stay in her peace. A woman who knows where her home is. 

    Blessed assurance-
    I finally became mine. 
    became sure. 
    made it here. 
    here is she. 
    I am me. 
    And she, is finally, where I want to be. 

    someday came, 
    and I came home too. 

    Gabrielle Hickmon
    Gabrielle Hickmon

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