To Bloom Again

First off, let me apologize to all of you who have ever made a major move. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you...to comfort, help, advise, rally...or put you out of your misery. I realize I've been so unsympathetic to those brave souls who have done this countless number of times...dug up their giant rootball of life and planted it elsewhere.

Yet, some things in life you must do alone. And, other than the occasional bark by my husband, it has been a solo experience. And a startling flashback of the past eighteen years in this house.

In order to pack properly, I must sift through memories that have been dormant in the closets of my heart forever. Pulling them out into the light makes them breathe again, recharge, become fragrant with forgotten scents... and soft with bittersweet tears. It has made the calendar of life come crushing down upon my head and has ticked away the years like a video on fast forward. Regrets become visible. Promises lay unkept. Youth is lost ...and nothing will ever be the same.

How can it be that these lopsided boxes with their ribbons of crooked tape be all that I am? Is my life actually reduced to piles of books, bins of paint, tubs of photos, and bags of clothing? Why do I bother to take this kind of luggage with me?  Why do I feel I must pack that wad of paper clips, the tube of suntan lotion, the old check books and worn slippers and too small belts? Why can't starting over really mean starting over?

But, then again, how could I possibly leave behind the things that compose my very soul? I will not, cannot, must not erase these years, this house, these things...just because my rootball needs a
transplant! These things are like layers of my Life. They are sewn into my skin, they are nourishment for my smiles, they will warm me on a cold winter night...they will comfort me in the last days of my life.

I realize that the human body is not made to accept excitement and stress at the same time. Blending both is a recipe for a nervous breakdown! I am so excited to move to the big woods, but my heart tries to grab onto the doorway of this house and refuses to go out. My memories flash so quickly before my eyes that I grow weary with the visions...I try to block them out...fight the good fight...persevere and continue forward.

Years ago when my dad passed away, we all knew his house would eventually be sold. I dug up a tulip bulb from my mom's flower bed to keep as a cherished memory of that house and that time in my life. He was buried in November. And I found myself digging a hole near my porch steps and burying that tulip in the cold ground, never really expecting it to ever bloom again.

But it did. Love is rich with strength and miracles. With faith, I know I will bloom again and my roots will grow thick and deep in a new place.

I stepped outside this morning. A yellow tulip blooms at the corner of my porch. A solitary flower
that I look upon with tears in my eyes.
"I love you, too, Dad," I say, "but it's time to go."