First from my hometown in Eastern Washington to a sleepy community an hour north of Seattle where we found a happy niche of like-minded people.
For the first time in my life I wasn’t the weirdest person in the room and by weird I mean smart in all the ways that life can make you different. Open. Honest. Engaged.
I rooted deeply in the freedom of connection and that was a gift.
We were happy there in the wet and the gray and green and all the just being right and easy. Then, not so suddenly, my husband was sick and the world shifted. His body was weak and my heart heavy and we wanted to go home.
So we moved.
Back to family and the familiar and the much-needed support of people who shared blood and history. We took a breath and found ourselves somewhere we had fought never to be.
Settling. Where nothing came easily and we struggled to belong.
When our roots couldn’t find ground we improvised winding them tightly around our hearts.
Root bound and weary we learned.
Who we are.
Why we are.
What matters and how to protect it.
We learned. We grew and we made ourselves ready for what would come next.
Southeastern Idaho and a step in a new direction.
Which is where most of you met me.
In a charming old bungalow on a 1/4 acre lot inside city limits with no dirt and an abundance of shade.
Where my story started to become a story and I found a voice. Granted a voice that has very little to do with farming and is more often used to help others find their own but there are words. And sometimes they come easily.
Our intention was to stay.
To force contentment into a box marked adulthood. To avoid risk and raise our children.
A life lived for less.
Why we ever thought that choice had any hope of being right for us I can not tell you.
Something about stability and letting our kids grow. Finding community and learning to be patient in our own growth. In taking the next step. In our own pursuit of independence and excellence.
And we weren’t unhappy.
Our roots broke their boundaries and stretched to the sky.
In the wind and the sun we made ourselves stronger. We made ourselves known. We realized that waiting in any form, for any reason was not in our nature, and not where we were called.
To settle for less in order to teach our children only taught them to settle.
And they are hungry for more.
Watered by adaptation and nourished in the stability of independence and grace, our children were grafted not grown.
Tender stock. Weathered roots.
Weirder. Wiser. Stronger.
We are ready, for everything that’s next. And that’s the root of it.