All my life I thought that having deep roots was the best possible thing. I loved being a Native Daughter of the Golden West. But when I traveled, I saw new cities where I wanted to live—in Italy, and France and Southern Oregon.
I looked around and saw a whole world waiting to be explored. But to live thereI had to leave here. A dilemma, for sure. I know I’m not alone, wanting both worlds. I started questioning my old values. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.
If enough people believe something, does that make it so? Take, for example, the sayings: “Change is hard.” “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” What if change is exciting and renewing and all things are possible? What if lack of change slowly sucks the life, one cell at a time?
But what about huge change? Would it kill me or make me stronger? I think the answer is, a little of each.
A couple of things have surprised me about moving so far from “home.” One is how much I admire my husband. Like Adam and Eve, we are the First Couple, relying on each other in this strange and beautiful paradise. I watch him with fresh eyes as he builds shelves and repairs gutters. He tends to a thousand details that will make our house strong in the winter. He works without expecting to be noticed, but I do. And he makes me feel like Eve.
Another surprise is how much boredom I had been carrying. Everything’s fun again. I’m a fresh helium balloon, filled with possibilities. Something has been removed and the vacuum is being refilled.
In a new kitchen with top-grade appliances and lots of counter space, I’m cooking turnovers, blackberry pies, ribs and roast chicken. I bought myself a Le Creuset roasting pan and I’m taking such pride in cooking. I have my neighbors over for buffalo stew and homemade bread with new blackberry jam. And it’s not just a hasty meal, it’s an event because they’re our new friends, a bridge to the community.
On the flip-side, I’m surprised at how heavy I feel some days. I love it here, but everything seems so serious. I drive with my tongue pressed against my cheek, concentrating. I pore over newspaper ads looking for clues for the best shops. I analyze, memorize and when everything is too much, I hibernate for a few days and start all over again.
A film maker friend is nudging me to show him product, a script we’re working on, and I am so grounded that it’s hard to be absurd and witty. Maybe that’s why I’m blogging about that today—a promise to get airborne again and feel the wind.
Are you airborne or grounded? Be the wind under our wings and share your thoughts.