A few times each week, while walking my dog, I cross paths with a neighbor who is walking his dog. We’ve never exchanged names. We don’t know where each other works. We don’t know each other’s stories, political views, or life histories. We haven’t traded phone numbers or shared meals. But every time we see each other, something wonderful happens. As we approach, we raise our hands, exchange a high five, and laugh. That’s it. The interaction lasts only a few seconds. Then we continue on our separate ways. Yet those few seconds matter more than they probably should. In a culture that respects deep relationships, networking, and carefully cultivated communities, it’s easy to overlook the power of these tiny moments. We tend to think belonging comes from close friendships, family ties, or organized groups. Certainly those things matter. But belonging is also built through small, repeated experiences that quietly remind us: I am part of this place. My unnamed neighbor and...