Establishing Roots

Sometimes, it's hard to remember that I am not going anywhere anytime soon. I feel like a spring start that's been hardened off in preparation for the outdoor weather.

I'm ready. Prepared. I've been acclimated and adjusted, theoretically I'm ready to be planted.

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And I yearn to be planted. Please don't assume the contrary. In fact, I'm desperate to have someone dig a nice hole into some fertilized and alkalized soil; unloosen the bundle of hair-like roots with a gentle finger, and plop my body down into the ground. I'd bask in the daily sun and soak in all the water--whether human or cloud delivered. And I'd grow my hardest, first with all my energy reaching toward the sky to get tall enough, wide enough, strong enough to take in all the light I can. Once I'd done that, I'd shift gears, making beautiful flowers and enticing all kinds of life to help pollinate my future. Then, one day, I'd watch as fruit filled my strong limbs, my own veins of life supplying existence.

You may suspect, however, that this daydream is not my reality. It's like I've been hardened off--even planted--but can't will my brain or my body to believe that I won't be uprooted and transplanted to another reality any minute now. I'm growing, yes. Healthy, relatively happy I may add, but my roots are still in a clump the size of my most recent container. Making the leap from seedpot to old-cottage-cheese container wasn't a terrible strain. So why is this one so hard? When your container is the universe it's different.

You suddenly realize that you can't see the boundaries. You don't know where the borders are or what lies "beyond." I used to think you should only use what you absolutely needed to get by. My utopian visions of the future involved a tiny house, bulk purchasing of tofu to reduce packaging waste and a small selection of second-hand clothing. But then I read about tomato plants that will stretch their roots down 10 feet--if you simply loosen the soil first. It gives them better nutrients, stabilize them and is said to promote an abundance of fruit. All things I believe.

But here's what I want to know: Who taught the tomato how to stand strong in the face of all those things? No one taught me how. What I learned, was how to acclimate whatever the weather, how to stay small and pack light. I can go anywhere, anytime....just don't ask me to stay there for too long.