Today was filled with downpours. Torrential rain pounded the slate roof, then rushed off, clattering, into the metal gutters for hours and hours. There were waves of thunder and the occasional flash that broke through the grey.

I love storms, and I welcomed Mother Nature’s support.

Today, I began packing.

It was a rainy day in paradise.

Yes, it’s our own little storm in our sweet summer farmhouse. As always, the summer has built quickly to a frenzy in the last few weeks, just before it ends, suddenly, in a rush. I’m trying to take this week to transition, but it’s hard to untangle from the chaos of work and family. I feel the stress building and the challenge of letting go and starting over clawing at my chest. For some, it’s an adventure. For me, right now, it is a sort of heartache to surmount.

I root deeply in the relationships I hold with people and places.

Rooted things leave pieces of themselves, even as the soil from which they are pulled clings to them when they must move along, and it is no small feat to simply cherish those tangled parts that remain and the growth that has taken place rather than sink into the quiet emptiness of feeling extracted. Uprooted. Of not waking to familiar surroundings and faces from one day to the next, knowing that only hours ago life was very different.

Oh, the tugging has begun. That pesky cosmic gardener insisting that what has grown here is ready for harvest.

Having made similar transitions many times before, I know that hours turn into days, which turn into weeks, which turn into months. Little by little, I will settle into what is next, growing new roots, the raw parts of myself and the pieces that travel with me integrating into the next reality. I will remember with gratitude that all of the people and places that I hold dear are a gift to carry always, and that if and when I am blessed to return to them, reunion brings the joy of homecoming.

Ah yes, the joy of homecoming.

Shifting my gaze now and looking ahead, for though it will take some work to get there, home is calling and I’ve missed her and all of the people who make her so.

Leave A Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *