Feeling Uprooted

It's finally dawned on me. Even though I always reckoned myself a free spirit, able to live anywhere, move anywhere, the fact is that I lived in the same 100-mile-region almost my entire life. In my mind, I didn't move away because I couldn't----too many ties, too little money. And, though I thought that I never really felt at home in the South, it was my home, by default, anyway. That is, there were people who came to know me, to accept me (whether begrudgingly or not), to forgive me (if not accept me for) my eccentricities, to know that even though I may come across too strongly for some, they at least could count on my meaning well. And. . . I had my "credentials" associated with my employment----that is, my college degrees, my sterling evaluations from jobs deemed well done.

A year and a half later, I am realizing how isolated I feel, how dependent I am on this technology to keep me in touch with my loved ones----my daughter and granddaughter and friends----who are so far away. And, though I don't really want to work again, part of me misses those affirmations of my strengths.

Which brings me to technology again: this morning I actually signed up to receive five e-mails weekly from "The Universe," little affirmations that are supposed to boost one's spirits. Add to this the poem I read each day from The Writer's Almanac, today's by Norah Pollard, that ends so sadly, so truly, and my tears just mix with the rain that is falling, falling, falling steadily.

When you did not give me
a Valentine today,
I was undone.
And I wept in the shower
even though I am an adult and know
gifts are materialistic shallow
commercially driven wasteful crap.

But why, why could you not have
Wasted some mute love on me?