I Must Belong Somewhere
Page 5
And if he did it now,
she already knows.
He taught her about spaces, distance—
if only he could respect hers.
She’s grown up without him,
made her choice when she learned:
Blood isn’t what makes a family.
Love is.
97
Some days you unfold;
some days you tuck yourself
back into your cocoon.
98
Sometimes you feel the weight
of another person’s love
sink you further.
The expectations,
the responsibility of being loved—
you’re not sure
you were built for that.
To love is to be accountable,
and when it gets bad,
you want all strings snapped.
But you have been looking
at love the wrong way.
It is not a stone
that sinks you down.
Love is the anchor
that grounds you
when you drift off lost.
99
There’s power in speaking
the words that carried you through,
but there is joy,
so much joy,
in singing them, too.
There is life in the hum,
in the melody,
in every tremble of your
voice,
and in every syllable.
There is the music,
and then there is you.
100
Give yourself the gift of hindsight,
to be able to look back
at a difficult time
without panic,
to speak of a difficult feeling
without the fear of speaking it.
Give yourself the chance
to look down at the labyrinth
that you coursed through,
not to tell yourself
what you did wrong
but to embrace
what you’ve gone through.
101
And then there is Lorne,
with its strip of stores,
coffee shops, and galleries,
takeaway Chinese:
dumplings the size of
an infant’s fist.
Young people meeting
on the streets,
adults in between breaks
getting a cuppa,
blowing rings.
Pedestrian lanes
heading to different directions,
streetlights blinking,
buskers getting your attention.
When I think of Lorne,
I make a silent hum.
My lips turn, and I envision:
home.
102
I like it here.
I am mostly worried about
where to go,
what to eat for lunch or so.
Sometimes I still think
about the things that worry me so,
but time moves differently here:
fast yet abundant.
The cold air sweeps me off my feet,
but there is sunlight.
Always sunlight.
103
Crimson,
the color of your shame
for wanting to change
where you stay.
Blue,
how it runs through you,
unable to recognize
the country you once knew.
Three stars
and a sun,
wherever you could wish upon.
You love your country—you do.
But you no longer feel alive
in a place that was once home to you.
104
Settling—
not accepting what is at hand,
never what you really want—
but s e t t l i n g:
setting down roots,
satisfied.
105
There will be thunder.
You will shiver in the cold.
But the clouds will roll.
— The sun will return
106
They’re playing our song;
I don’t feel the need to call
you, out of nowhere.
— moving on
107
I will replace your name with a new meaning,
stop banning it from existence.
No more a syllable that shouldn’t pass my lips,
I will speak your name and deem it
no longer a word that hurts,
no longer a memory that haunts.
I will give your name a better feeling,
my own version of a happy ending.
108
You know when we were young and people asked, “Where do you go for vacations? Are you a city person? Or do you enjoy the outdoors more?” It took me years of traveling to learn that I like cities. I like shops. I like places to get books, coffee, food. Places to see art. Study art. I like traveling in between: observing, studying, seeing people in their day-to-day while I am on pause and at rest. I like being a tourist pretending to be one with the crowd.
But then, I’ve also started to crave the slow life: the charm of small towns, the little shops, handmade things, local artists, odd histories. Small things that are their big things.
The quiet life.
The simple dream.
Contentment.
Maybe that’s what I’ve always been seeking.
109
She’s already lived
a thousand lives,
seen enough places
to come back around,
met people old and new,
played a different role or two.
Then she comes home
to solitude.
Home is wherever she goes,
whatever she decides it to be.
She belongs to herself
and to whoever she chooses fit.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
with love and gratitude to
My constants:
Layla Tanjutco, best editor
Reginald Lapid, best and most patient cover designer
#romanceclass community for the motivation and inspiration, always
KB Meniado, best beta reader!
Cheyenne Raine
Raine Sarmiento
Sheila, for the nitty gritty
Patty Rice and the Andrews McMeel Publishing team for creating book number four with me.
Maan and Jay, for the trips and happy things.
B and Kara, for the safe space.
Tita Thelma, who is missed.
Family and friends, in real life and in fandom,
the cities that became my shelter,
and the people who had been my home,
Babalik ako.
Mahal ko kayo.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dawn Lanuza writes contemporary romance, young adult fiction, and poetry. She has two first loves—music and writing—and is lucky enough to surround herself with them. She started to self-publish in 2014 with her debut romance novel, The Boyfriend Backtrack, and then proceeded to write two more books. In 2016, she self-published her first poetry collection, The Last Time I’ll Write About You, which debuted at number one on Amazon’s Hot New Releases and has stayed on its bestsellers chart for over a year, before it was rereleased as an expanded and r
evised edition by Andrews McMeel Publishing. She has been traveling in and out of her country, the Philippines, to find the next place to call home.
You may contact her at:
hello@dawnlanuza.com
www.dawnlanuza.com
I Must Belong Somewhere
copyright © 2021 by Dawn Lanuza. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.
Andrews McMeel Publishing
a division of Andrews McMeel Universal
1130 Walnut Street, Kansas City, Missouri 64106
www.andrewsmcmeel.com
Cover and interior illustration by Raine Sarmiento
Illustrator’s model: Iris Dijkers
Cover art design by Reginald Lapid
ISBN: 978-1-5248-6907-6
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020940641
Editor: Patty Rice
Art Director/Designer: Holly Swayne
Production Editor: Elizabeth A. Garcia
Production Manager: Carol Coe
Digital Production: Jasmine Lim
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