Roots

I've moved around a bit and as such, have never felt like I belonged anywhere.  Sure, I lived here for 3 years, there for 4, maybe somewhere else for 8.  But there was usually a sense that I was in on it from the beginning.  Tradition has always been very important to me and I've wistfully admired those families that have been doing X for a thousand years; always so grateful to be part of it, if even for a moment or two.  The one exception is probably college--I felt at home there from day 1 and love to go back and revisit campus, and inhale it all again.

Having just returned from a family reunion, this topic was brought to the forefront of my mind.  My extended KS family hardly even registers in the memory banks.  My immediate cousins are awesome, kickass people that I love hanging out with, but even they are blips of a week or two, every other summer, while I was 10-16 or so--and now every 3 years when we get together (this was the 4th such event, including a cruise that a bunch of us took).  So while we are all family, it doesn't feel like it.  The matching shirts help to tell who belongs to whom.  Trying to explain to my sons who some of these people are, beyond "cousins", is a failing effort.  I feel like a guest at a party of acquaintances, mostly.

I have to say that I've continued the legacy of not staying put; I'm living in my 3rd house & 5th residence since graduating from college.  We moved to our current area in 2003, and for the first time I felt at home.  I found the perfect blend of city and neighborhood for me.  Our first West Seattle house was a labor of love and located in a spot that frankly, I was not happy with.  Luckily, a few things fell into place (housing market crash, smart investing on our part), and we were able to move just a few miles north, into an 'ok' house with a beautiful sound & mountain view.  I am in love and have dug my roots. 

I married into a family with roots and a strong presence in the community in which we live. Being part of their legacy was probably one of the strongest draws for me (besides loving the guy and being able to stand him most of the time, blah, blah, blah).  It still tickles me to be called by my married name, like "CHER!" or "MADONNA!" (it always sounds like capital letters to me).  Since we've been in the area since B was 2, that is all he (& R) knows.  I've done my best to stay relatively put and dig those holes for their roots.  The short move was worth the sacrifice of space--we can walk to just about anywhere we need to go, and ride our bikes to the rest.  I hope that they feel they have a base to launch anywhere from, even if it's just a few blocks or miles away.  We really do have a fantastic village and even when we travel halfway across the country, there are people there that are THEIR people--and we are all part of it.  I hope they know how lucky they are to have a generic band of cousins that are all across the country (and even luckier to have ones that they go to school with and see at least monthly, besides), and that they get to have those snippits of reunion folly to look back on.  That's something that I'm proud to have contributed to their childhood.

Sometimes, I guess, you just have to be patient for your roots to take.  I always have been a late bloomer...