bloom where you’re planted
…or the grass is always greener.
Or in this case, a picture is worth a thousand words.
But I won’t just leave it at that.
There have been three house inspections in the last while that have presented three blatant signs (of the “don’t live here variety”) – everything from yelling neighbours to dead rats on footpaths. I know, blatant! So as I recalled this very story to those who would listen on instagram last night, I received beautiful messages of understanding and support. One women got straight to the heart of the matter:
“Remember when you were waiting for Percy to be born? Dare I say it’s a similar kind of ‘in-between’ that you’re existing in. But it will come to end because a new home is needed, just like Percy was born when the time was right.”
Lightbulb moment. The limbo and the not-knowing and the fact that so much is beyond our control is frustrating and anxiety-inducing. It’s also part of life. So while I honour that the upheaval is hard work and that it’s a process of letting go, moving on and embracing the new, it’s something that people do all over the world, every single day. It’s normal stuff. Boring, even. And yet it has to happen so it will happen, in ways that may challenge me but will, ultimately, make me a bit more resilient.
Last night, after Katie suggested I do it, I wrote a list of all the things we want in a house, stood outside under the stars (Percy squawking on my hip and mosquitos biting my ankles) and asked the universe for it. It was a slightly hippy moment but it felt good to put it out there. Che and Poet stood at the backdoor slightly perplexed as I sung my song to the sky but I figure I was making memories, albeit eccentric ones.
Did the universe listen? Perhaps. But that’s a story for another day (when I actually know how it all unfolds).
Till then, we’ll bloom where we’re planted.