Hi there! I’m thinking about roots and radishes today, and what it feels like when you’re ready for a change. Grab a cuppa of something comforting and come join me? Click through to find out what feeling like a radish actually has to do with, well, anything.
Remember how I told you that we sold our house? Yeah, well. That happened. Too quickly or easily to really process, to be honest. So I’m mulling over that event today. How we said “goodbye” to the cute little rancher that we left when we downsized to the Shoebox. We hadn’t planned to sell—it just sort of happened. A thing so natural and so seamless it can only be explained by supernatural intervention.
I’m glad to have sold the house, but the transition is still bittersweet. We loved that home; we did a lot of work to customize it to our liking. We made a lot of great memories there, like the time my brother popped the champagne cork at 9-seconds-to-midnight one wild New Years Eve. First Christmas together. First Easter together. Or the time we found out we were pregnant with our first child. And now we realize with a fresh dose of reality that we won’t be moving back in, ever.
It has me thinking about roots. You know, owning a home is usually something we equate to being settled, to “putting down roots.” Owning a home usually means you’re going to be there for a while. You’re digging into the soft new dirt and reaching out for connections, for community, for consistency.
Roots are a varying concept. They are the livelihood of a plant, the life-giving system unseen underground. They draw water and available nutrients from the soil. Some roots go deep; others branch and stretch shallow. Some are intricate webs woven into the quilt of earth. Others are a single stem that almost begs to be uprooted, like a radish or a potato. These “root vegetables” nestle into the dirt, thriving, but when the gardener picks them what he or she discovers is hopefully a fully matured, flavorful, ripe vegetable. Said uprooted veg had gleaned all the nutrients it needed from its soil and it was ready to be picked, to be moved toward a salad or whatever its next experience might be.
Sometimes you pull up roots and what happens is destruction: the plant dies, the roots splay and dry out. Other times you pull up a root and a journey continues: a beautiful fuchsia radish beams in your hand, complete in its growth and ready for enjoyment.
Life can be the same—with people, with experiences. Maybe you are growing just fine in a place, but something happens that severs roots and life dries up for a time. You’re faced with a catastrophe or maybe just plain loneliness and roots are pulled, but you can’t quite face whatever should come next. Have you ever felt that? I have.
Or maybe you’re just peachy and you love where you’re at, but then you feel tinges of tiny roots snapping beneath you. You can’t really explain it, but you feel ready to be uprooted. You feel like this current soil has given you all it can and maybe it is time to move on—you’re a healthy radish ready for a change.
(I’d prefer to stop my analogy here, if you’ll allow me, because it never really turns out well for the root veg. They either end up under a knife or sweating in an oven. For our purposes, uprooted radishes graduate straight to lounging in a rainbow-topped meadow sipping blueberry lemonade.)
I feel like a radish. I sense movement; I sense change, but I can’t tell you exactly where we are headed. (I’d truly love to know that!) As far as certain aspects of life go, I’m ready for uprooting. Like maybe the Shoebox: It’s been sweet. It’s been cozy. It’s been growing and nurturing and learning. But I’m looking forward to whatever will come next. (Especially that blueberry lemonade.)
What about you? Tell us about a time when you sensed a major change…that you were ready for or not. Chip in on roots and radishes below!