Roots

It's been one year and 7 months since a vulture swooped down and virtually stole my house for $1.500,000 less than my purchase price. So much has happened since then. It's been a real whirlwind. I've moved twice already which has been hard for my daughter but she is doing extremely well right now. She has lots of friends and she has a smile on her face every day.

I made a conscious decision to slow down with work because although money is great it means nothing when compred to the delicious and endless amounts of  hugs and kisses I get when I spend quality time with my little angel.
My life is in flux, my stuff is in storage, I am somehow simultaneously running two businesses and keeping it together as best I can.  

If you kow me a little bit or even if you don't, you should know that I have a soft spot for living things. I dont kill insects and although I don't have the greenest thumb, when I buy a houseplant I really try to keep it alive. I consider it a lifelong comitment just like my cats who are now 15 and my dogs who range in age from 4-8. When I moved, I took very few belongings beside my clothing and among them were my straggly houseplants. One by one, they seem to be leaving me. I bet they are as sad as I am not having the beautiful home we once had. The light is different here. I had the most gorgeous Mexican Fan Palm. It's leaves spread out like a peacock when they mature. That was the first to go. A few other more non-descript plants that I had purchased for my most gorgeous and fallen home have since bitten the dust and just now at this moment I lost the last one. 

That one was special. It was the first day in the house in June of 2007. I was walking around the acre and a half that was mine for what I didn't know wold be a short time. It was a magical property. Everything was bigger there; greener, more lush than seemingly anywhere else. The previous owner was a gardner and soon I would become inspired to be the same. On that first day while touring the landscape, I came across this broken, twisted piece of bamboo that was lying on the ground. It still had roots attached and looked fairly alive but it was just lying there sideways on top of the earth, looking so helpless. I thought it was a goner but I brought it in the house and gently placed it in a glass of 
water. 

As the subsequent days passed, the bamboo began to perk up and sprout a new leaf. The stem grew strong and hard and the color morphed into a brilliant Preying Mantis shade of green. It was happy there. I went out and purchased a glass container and took some rocks from the garden to fill this vessel which helped to stabilize the fledgling plant. The bamboo grew in my powder room for 3 years. It became more twisted, more interesting and was beginning to become the skinny tree-like specimen it was meant to be. As it flourished I gave it a larger container and added more rocks. Just then it was time to move. The new home was much darker in more ways than one and my bamboo beauty lost some leaves. Then the main branch rotted from the inside out and broke off on moving day to place #2. With this second move, all that was left was the tiniest piece but it was still hanging on. Today I went to care for it and noticed it was hanging over the side of its container, droopy in expression. I gingerly lifted it up to shift the rocks around in an effort to steady it once more and when I did, the plant was in my hand and the roots were stuck in the rocks.

It's so telling of my life right now. No roots are planted. No home to speak of. Perhaps the plant is trying to tell me that I can finally move on from that house; that it is time to find a new home and start fresh. Baggage. I don't like that word except at the airport becuase I adore traveling. But that is what comes to mind now. Baggage. One less thing to move when the time comes. Farewell, my little bamboo friend.