Root Pulling Maybe

There's this pull I'm feeling recently.  The pull to do some root changing and wing spanning; to leave this place of always been home to find a new definition of home.  I think about all the cities there are and all the varying landscapes and different skies and I feel I need to go get some.  

And then there is the idea of having new places to frequent.  Markets which have an abundance of real food.  Restaurants who serve the kinds of concoctions which live now only in my head.  Stores not of the chain variety.  Thriving downtowns with arrays of culture.  Museums to use my feet to find.  

It's all very appealing to me; this idea of finding somewhere fresh to call mine.  

But then what I think about is this.  

If I don't have the people I love around me, will all of those positive draws have any shine left.  Because if you don't have someone to text a "meet me at the beach in fifteen for wine and sunset" is there a draw to living next to the coast?  And if you don't have your family to celebrate reasons to go out with, will the unique restaurants' seats even have you in them?  

I don't know the answer.  These are things I think about often.  

To move.  To stay.  What really matters?  People?  Places?  Things?  Ideas?  

I do know this.  I want to make sure I do everything in this life I am meant to do.  I want to experience and see and do and jump in and wrap up and breathe in all there is to offer.  I'm sure it's why these thoughts go through my head.  Am I where I need to be to get done what I'm supposed to get done?

Then late yesterday afternoon, I found myself driving to the farm after a parts pick up for Dad-o; receiving the call I haven't in quite some time, "Will you go get parts?  Purple nozzles for the sprayer.  Make sure they are purple."  I used to love the opportunity to be the part runner.  Because it meant being behind the wheel, the radio playing, sunglasses wearing, drinking a pop, and getting a break from the work.  Growing up, it was literally a jump who could get the parts.  The freedom of driving while escaping the hot sun and dirt was a win we all wanted our hands on.  Now I don't have to concern myself with the break from the physical work or drinking the pop, but the sunglasses and radio?  They still happened.

It was almost as if that trip to that farm with the John Deere bag of purple sprayer nozzels sitting next to me carried with it a hidden agenda. 

All notions of pulling up roots to move left me last night as my feet had gravel crunching under them with wide open fields as the view and the wind, there's always the wind, blowing at my back.  And then my front on the way home, always home even though I no longer live there, but we'll pretend that part didn't happen.  Seriously, with every step it was as if I was getting the affirmation I apparently have been craving lately.

You are alright.  You are doing just fine.  This life of yours is more than you could hope for right now so keep reveling in without the pondering.  Simply keep living it.      

I meandered back into the yard after a cool down walk with a song flowing in my ear and was greeted by Sister Pister who was putting away her barrel horse after a strenuous workout.  Once I saw her feeding her old horse, the one who saved her from fear and the one who is chubby and needs a special diet, I knew it even more.

Home.  This dirt is my home.

Laying in the grass with sweat pouring off me with the sounds of machinery filling my ears while the sun started it's slithering decent behind the trees brought me all the way back.

Roots firmly planted.

For now at least.

I actually said out loud to my mom and sister as we were walking around the yard, "I forget that sometimes I need to do this.  To be here."

To smell the air. 

To see the sky. 

Turns out, I need it for these roots of mine.