“My heart wants roots. My mind wants wings. I cannot bear their bickerings.”~E. Y. Harburg
To live wherever you want and not having to change jobs is not a blessing, it’s a curse. So many people have envied that about my life but someone I’m very close to recently said to me, “You grew up in bars and around music as I did, that’s where we get our gypsy from.” A lightbulb went off in my head.
How did she know that? In my twenty eight years of marriage, I always quietly to myself wondered why can I not be content with where I live. A house had something I didn’t like, Bobby hated the land, I wanted more, he wanted more. We’ve always moved. It was more me than him. We did happily stay in one state for thirteen years, raising our daughter. Pre-K until her junior year of high school. The MS scare took us back to our home state. Thinking help would be necessary.
Now we’re at our runaway location. Even with all the travels with my parents and my husband, I hadn’t learned of this southern getaway until the 90’s when I spent many weekends with close friends. Sometimes weeks. A bartending job down south once paid so well I stayed until my high school sweetheart / husband returned home to call me and ask if I was coming back. It was just always addictive for me.
Any and all of my memories here are positive ones. The consistent sun, the hidden neighborhoods, the surrounding water, the fact that it’s normal to have many mimosas for breakfast, the beauty and tranquility, the endless opportunities, along with the peace and quiet.
Once before one of my moves, my mom asked me to take a ride with her. She drove me to the country. The hills and valleys where I grew up as a kid, wearing nothing but my dingo cowboy boots and dreaming my plans as a music producer. She said “you know, someday you’ll want these reminders and the people you know. It’s your roots honey. You’ve ran around your entire life. Everyone needs roots.” As our girl reminisces about her roots, where I stayed put for thirteen years only for her, now while living in happiness and far away, I’ve finally accepted my roots.
As settling down, feeling content, not needing a wheelchair after all, expanding on my writing career and surviving cancer, our magnificent adult girl, received a surprise. One of the respectable colleges back home that accepted her application upon her high school graduation, offered her a large scholarship, along with the grant they offered two years ago. As the traditional lioness mother I’ve always been, just like my mom, as her eyes lit up, I got in touch with my old contacts and due to my known trait of being a cleaning fanatic, I had a nice house set up within days. Knowing the house would have to be in a five mile radius to give her much wanted desire to commute. It was as though it was meant to be. The lease would begin exactly when we would need to leave here. Even though my Daniel Boone is now a fishing pro, he could hunt in the cold again. Even though she stayed educated with a high work ethic, my girl could accept what she earned.
Bobby and I could go into our older years around family. And because of the latter, as we look
Into each other’s eyes, Bobby and I know this is the end of the well traveled road, one even I want an end to. The pressure is on.
I long for something to force us to not have an option. Not a sickness, god forbid. The days of our baby being in her young school years while I taught horseback riding lessons at the local stall until she got home. It was consistent. In concrete.
As it usually is for women, I’m chosen to be in charge of the answer. For three lives and two animals. As I think to myself, Bobby and I are aging by the second, my life was saved moving here. Let’s go back. Then I think, we’re aging by the second, let’s stay put.
I just want everyone to be sure.
Now we’re all settled, content and the clock is ticking. No. It’s not a blessing to have the option. It’s a curse.