Feeling Roots

October 5, 2023

I’ve not lived what I think of as a sedentary life. What I mean by this is a life settled in one place for years and years on end. My life has been so polar-opposite to this that I cannot begin to imagine the feeling of the rootedness that develops from being in one place so long. There for a long time, I longed and hoped for that. Each move I made, I hoped that it would be that “long-time” home. But it never was.

After so many times of saying “farewell” to people and starting over with developing relationships in another environment, a self-defense mechanism kicked in. I refused to set roots. I refused to allow myself to get emotionally intertwined to the point that tender emotions were affected when I told people that I was moving away. It was almost as though they were just there by happenstance and never really mattered at deeper levels. That self-defense mechanism kept me from hurting. It’s not that I didn’t care. I just grew weary of hurting over and again.

Shirli, early on in our relationship, is the one that broke me of the tendency of being so quick to slip into my developed “default mode”. She simply would not allow it. It would be so easy for me to do that again. But I refuse to. A huge part of my loving life these days comes from my willingness to feel what I’m feeling as I feel it.

The thought occurred to me as I pulled out and started home … “By doing the things that Shirli and I loved doing together, I’m doing the things that I love to do.”

I had to go to Bay Minette this morning to drop off some insurance papers at the collision repair that will be repairing Fred. When I got in behind the wheel, I looked down into my little pantry and made a mental note. After tending to matters in town, that mental note came into play … “There’s everything you need down there for a picnic lunch at Ft. Mims.”

There are multiple levels of something special about that place. It was good to be there again today.

Oh. Doing the reenactments is fun. But there are other things that supply deeper meaning this far along in my reasoning. I can’t sit or walk there without seeing the faces of so many people I’ve been around at those [and other] reenactments. Some of them are still around. Some of them are now dead and gone. Shirli included. I can’t help but to remember the shenanigans of camp life after the spectators had gone home and the deep personal relationships with people that grew and still grows. I am a better person because of all of it.

It’s crazy how people surprisingly enter into our lives and become significant contributors toward the give and take of life. A real heart-melding takes place, one that creates a heart-bond. I think it no coincidence. Nor a coincidence that I’m beginning to feel roots.