Roots

These trees rip at my heart.  They drag to the surface all of my buried grief, all of my feelings of fragility and strength.

I have been muddling through this years joys and losses, often having the two greying each other.   Within weeks of each other, I have lost two beloved women who helped shape the person I am, the mother I am.  Their guidance was largely unspoken.  I cannot recall a single time in my life, even as a child,  that either of them told me what to do.  They taught me through example and through constant presence even from a far.  They never doted on me, but I always felt their love.  They were imperfect people, but I loved them all the more for it.  They knew how to love, but they both struggled with letting themselves be loved.

Not a day goes by that I don't identify with these trees; shaped, nourished, and nurtured by the invisible strength of those that came before me.

When I first went away to college I was horribly lonely.  I remember going to the grocery store on the weekends simply to be around people.  So the irony wasn't lost on me when it occurred to me the other day that I now find myself volunteering to go to the grocery store so that I can be alone.  I linger over ingredient labels and contemplate produce far too long.  This week, I happened to be at the neighborhood Safeway at 6 pm on a Friday, I had no idea that this is when they do wine tasting... best.day.ever; they may as well call it ladies night.