Uprooting

Starting over. I don’t know if moving to a new house is an actual starting over point or not. In many ways, life doesn’t change all that much. Or I keep telling myself that anyway. I drive in the area where I’m looking for a home and recognize the same large signs — Safeway, Target, Walmart, Fry’s, Chevron. . .
So how different can it be? I ask myself. But yesterday as I pressed the button for my e signature, the tears began and I felt like my roots were literally being pulled to the surface. Sometimes the small things change our lives as much as the major ones.

You don’t recognize it when the roots are forming. They are tiny tendrils that grow slowly over time.The neighbor who brings your trash from the street and places it right outside your garage door each Friday. The grocery store cashier who recognizes you and waves from the floral section where she’s working today.The barrista at your local Starbucks who starts preparing you drink before you even order. The knowledge that the nearest gas station is 1.65 miles from your drive. (because you’ve tested it more than once on fumes).

I’m not one of those people who has lived in a house for thirty years. A good friend of mine is facing that soon. For varying reasons my average is probably eight years, but that’s only because I raised my children in our Scottsdale home for twelve. And a couple of times we moved in less than three. My point is — how hard can this really be? You pack the boxes. I’ve weeded out so much from my move six years ago, it should be a piece of cake. You clean the house although mine is spotless from the recent showings. You hire the truck and set the day and time.

So why did I feel uprooted yesterday, if it’s so darned easy, I ask myself. Because change is scary. And even if the roots aren’t protruding from the base of the tree after thirty years, there are tender roots that are being pulled from my ground. Kind neighbors, familiarity, comfort. There’s a current song about southern comfort zones. I relate to that song. Not that I drink Southern Comfort, but the message fits my life and perhaps yours as well. One must leave their southern comfort zone in order to recognize and appreciate where you came from. Moving brings to the surface the relationships and experiences that form us.

I wish everyone well who is packing up their belongings and facing change right now, and I join your ranks not knowing where I will plant my next tree.

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