Roots and Wings

When my grandmother came to visit last month, we went to go see “The Time Traveler’s Wife” together. It was an enjoyable film. (As an amusing side note, I think my grandmother enjoyed the preview for the Woodstock movie more than she did the main feature. *grin* Crazy woman!) "The Time Traveler’s Wife" was not the best movie I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t the worst either. But there was something about it that stuck with me. Not because there was a huge epiphany moment or anything, but there was something about the story that kept nagging at me. It wasn’t until much later than I pinpointed what it was.

I feel like the Time Traveler.

…especially when my life is in a particularly busy or blurry time. My intersecting and converging interests take me a thousand different directions. Most of which represent a community of people that get to see each other consistently, even when I’m not dissolving in and out at “random.”

The first weekend back at the Renaissance Festival, I had a great conversation with one of my fellow braiders. We talked about how most of us don’t see each other during the year. We also talked about how precious it is to have a relationship with someone where you *don’t* need to see each other all the time, but when you pop into each other’s lives again it’s like no time has gone by at all. There’s no apology needed. You don’t need to rebuild a foundation. Everything is already planted and thriving and ready to go. Those reunions aren’t awkward. They’re celebrations. (Though, don’t get me wrong. There are times when I’m painfully aware of moments I’ve missed out on as a result of my traveling.)

I’ve had a version of that conversation several times in my adult life. Roots. Fellowship that goes deeper than simply occupying the same space or doing the same job. Intentionally investing and caring. Those are the relationships that give us life.

In the movie, the Eric Bana had no control over his travels. That’s certainly not true with me. He also had a tendency to jump to different points in his own history. Much of his time jumps center on his wife. And in the movie, when he experienced particularly catastrophic events, he would travel “home” to the house he shared with his family. His wife and his home were anchors.

In the midst of my conversation at the Renaissance Festival, I realized that I am able to “travel” the way I do because I have such a great home base. I can flit, travel, explore, influence, and joyously bound through life because I know where I can run to if I get tired or scared or overwhelmed.

So to my herd, my family, my tin hats, my fellow nomads...my anchors…you know who you are. Thank you for being the roots that give me wings to fly.