Bloom Where You Are Planted

I keep repeating this to myself as I sit alone in my apartment.

Not totally alone, mind you, as I have Charlie. But as a girl whose entire life has been spent living with my family, this place feels empty.

Not only did I move out yesterday, but my brother and his wife, along with my two nephews and niece, moved back down to Tennessee. So you see, a lot happened all at once. And I’m left feeling off-center, sad, and a little lonely. I realize not everyone has a close family, but mine has and always will be tight. So the distance weighs on me, a near constant ache since I said my goodbyes.

At 25, it was time for my own place. I get along great with my Mom and brother, but I think once you hit a certain age, you start to go a little crazy wanting your own space. And now that I’m here, I’m not really sure how I feel. I know it’s only been a day, and it will take time to adjust. Building a home takes time.

But I’ve learned from this move that it truly is the people that make the home. What can I say? I miss my people. It hurts. Even while it’s exhilarating.

I’ve also realized as much as I thought I wanted the experience of living in an apartment, I can already say it isn’t for me. I’m already planning on saving every penny possible to hopefully buy a home next year. I miss my gardens. And my chickens. And not having people around constantly. I like having my own yard, and not having to worry about people walking by my windows or making too much noise.

Or knocking on my front door at nine in the morning to tell me my porch light was on. Yes, that really happened.

Bloom where you are planted.

I feel like if I just keep repeating it, it will be easier. To focus on making the best of the situation. Yes, I miss my gardens. But that doesn’t mean I can’t deck out my front door with all sorts of beautiful flowers. Or pop a few potted vegetables at the back door. Or cook from scratch, or continue to pick up eggs from my chickens back at Mom’s.

That doesn’t mean I can’t continue to put up food, or save water, or use green and eco-friendly cleaners. This apartment doesn’t mean I’m not a homesteader anymore. It just means I have to be a little more creative about it.

It doesn’t mean I don’t get to see that family that I love so darn much–it just means that when I do, I’ll appreciate and enjoy the time that much more.

So yes, it’s hard right now. So hard. But I know that time eases everything, and I have no doubts that even this ache and uncertainty will pass. Soon enough, I’ll walk through that front door and feel instantly better, because I’m home.

And, of course, I’ll still pop in at my Mom’s a few times a week to spend time with her, and my gardens, and my little thug chickens. And my soul will heal a little bit each time.

But, for now, I’ll be here with my wine, my faithful pup, and some old episodes of Scandal.

And I’ll be okay.

 

1 COMMENT

  1. Emma @ Misfit Gardening | 15th Aug 17

    My goodness that is quite a lot in a short space of time. I’m glad to read that you are thinking of flowers and veggies in and around your apartment.

    All will be well, especially with the puppy and a glass of wine!

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