Rerooting

About a month ago I was up at my Dad and Marie's house on the beautiful coast of Maine. In an effort to be helpful with the multitude of projects that are ongoing on their property, I asked Dad if there was anything I could do. [It's important to know that yard work of any kind is NOT my thing. My offers to help in such activities are generally met with gales of laughter, especially by Marie who is the complete opposite of me.] At any rate, he bravely took me up on my offer and asked my help in clearing out an area that was filling up with plants (and weeds) that had recently been cleared out.

As we pulled on various green things, it became very apparent why they had sprung back up, as the roots these plants were attached to were spread far and deep into the soil. Yanking one small stem sometimes led to subterranean connections several feet away. There were some things that were far stronger than I, stubbornly refusing to part with the earth no matter how hard I pulled, yanked, and perspired. This project has come to mind several times since then as I prepared to leave Boston after living there for the past 10 years.

The saying goes something like "you can take the girl out of the city but you can't take the city out of the girl." The implication is that where you come from is deeply ingrained in you, that no matter where you go you take a piece of it with you. It is where your roots are and even if you pull yourself up and move, there is a bit of you left in that place. You are never fully disconnected from it.

I have tested this a couple of times. I lived in Seattle for 3 years and absolutely loved it. I didn't mind the gray skies, I loved that it never got cold, and to this day I think it's the most beautiful place for a city to be located, surrounded by lake, ocean, mountains and a volcano. I started to become very attached to my adopted northwest home. The one drawback was that Seattle is 3,000 miles from my home, my family, and from my roots. So after 3 years I returned to New England. But I left a little seedling behind and there is still part of me that will always feel connected to that place.

Then last year, as you probably know, I pulled up roots once again and headed for Italy, the land of beautiful food, wine and men. I found all of those to be true and had a truly life-changing experience. Going there was both incredibly challenging and rewarding and there is no question in my mind that there is another little seedling there. It is a place that I love without a doubt and I hope to return there at some point in the not-too-distant future. It will always hold a special place in my heart because of the wonderful people I met and experiences I had there.

And now, after a few months at home, I am hoping to nurture yet another seedling here in Arlington, Virginia. As much as I am a native New Englander, I have grown increasingly wimpy when facing long, cold, dark Boston winters. I am not a cold-weather person anymore, if I ever really was. I can finally admit it: I don't really care about skiing. I can almost hear the collective gasp of horror from many of my New England friends. Skiing is freakin' cold, expensive, and pretty darn far from Boston. And it's not that I'm a terrible skier, I actually can get down the mountain while maintaining my dignity. But I just don't care about it! (Ahhhh, I feel so free right now...)

I know, I know... there is winter here, too. I've heard it. And the Farmer's Almanac says this one is supposed to be as bad as last year was down here when they had more snow than Boston did. And yes, I've also heard how hot and humid the summers are. I don't care, truly. I'll take that over 5 months of winter any time. Maybe I'll change my tune after I've experienced it all firsthand but one thing at a time. I just got here, so I'm still in the rose-colored glasses stage where snow comes and goes in a day or two and it doesn't stay under the freezing mark for very long. Please let me stay in this delusion for a while...

Whether a seedling will be born here has yet to be seen, but shaking things up and trying out a new place is exciting. And I know that in a couple of months I will drive north for the holidays. As I cross into New England, something deep inside will shift, the scenery will be familiar like the smell in the air. There is a subconscious feeling of comfort in what has always been and will always be home, because my roots remain there, buried deep under the frozen soil.

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