Places that feel like yours

Have you ever found a place that feels like yours? I don’t mean your home, a place that explicitly is yours. That’s its purpose. But a place that connected itself to you, and you to it, and somehow, it was what you needed at that moment?

Mine is a museum called Dia:Beacon. By now, it’s well loved in the hearts (and social media accounts) of New Yorkers, and to the residents of Beacon, and to all the passersby that find their way there.

To me, it’s always been a savior. The first time I visited, I had just moved to New York and was feeling more lost than ever. The museum pulled me in and welcomed me, with its larger-than-life rooms and sun-drenched corners. And corners of actual, literal lights by Dan Flavin. There were other people milling around, but it felt like it was just me there. The museum and I having a chat. I felt better about New York when I left Dia. That was in the springtime.

Maybe each time I found myself at Dia, my world had felt dark and perhaps suffocating. Dia opened the window and let fresh air in. I could breathe. I wasn’t sure what magical powers it possessed but I wanted more.

The weekend after the 2016 election, I went back with a friend. She and I quietly wandered— we didn’t say much. What was there to say? We were grief-stricken and rattled by fear. Dia calmed me and offered me a warm walk on a freezing November day. There were others there, but again, it was just Dia and me. An exchange I still can’t explain. I felt both shielded from and connected to nature in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

The last time I visited (and final time I before I moved from New York) was a few months ago. This time, I played. I ran through Dia’s trees and rejoiced in her tall hedges. I stood as close as I could to the colorful lights that attract so many photos. I wanted to hear them hum and buzz. It wasn’t goodbye— this time, Dia wasn’t healing me. We were celebrating together. New joys, new life, new adventures and experiences that I think she knew lay ahead.

On a day like today, I’d like to walk through her halls and let my shoes echo off her walls. I miss standing in the sunlight on a cold morning and letting the warmth heat me from my core. I haven’t found many places that feel like mine. When I do find them, I hold on tightly, even if it’s only in memories. These memories are my home. When things in my life shift— my job, house, or people, I still know that feeling of mine. It changes along with me, grows as I do, and I can visit anytime.

Places that feel like yours

Research & References of Places that feel like yours|A&C Accounting And Tax Services
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