Lost and Found

It is a quiet Sunday morning. 6 AM on a mid-October day. The sky is still dark. The moon is still doing its little shimmy dance albeit a bit tired. The birds in the forest behind my apartment complex have come alive and boy can they talk!

It has been a year since I made a big life change. A process that would uproot my whole life and unsettle me in ways I didn't imagine.

I'd like to think, I am starting to find my roots again. Like the tiny tendrils that grow out of a single succulent leaf. It is a tedious process, rooting a succulent. While they are designed to thrive in tough environments, they hate being uprooted or disturbed and threaten certain death if you do move or replant them. Gardening and managing succulents is probably a high test of patience. Honestly, they are the true change haters IMO, but I digress.

This post isn't to talk about gardening, although I hope someday I can rummage enough thoughts in my arsenal to write about plant/tree/green thumb therapy. No, this post is a dedication. An ode so to speak to the beautiful people in my life who are indeed my true roots.

I made a big life decision roughly a year ago. That process took me from all my familiarities in a giant leap of faith across continents in a brand new country more importantly with brand new people.

For all the excitement and tingles of a new life, starting one at the near end of your 30s is not easy. You see as humans we are creatures of habit. And by the time we are in our mid-30s, we have not only set our ways, but also our people. I, for eg, had four girlfriends, my close family, and a few friends as colleagues that I could count on in my life. And of course, the kiddos (furry and human).

So when I made this life change, I didn't imagine how I would feel with my moorings untethered. I did not imagine, how much I would miss the impromptu coffee dates with my best friend, the joy of landing at my sister's house unannounced only to end up spending the whole day with my niece.

My life has been largely defined by these big pieces of my heart. They have loved, lived, laughed, and cried with me. And as I unpacked my life in a new country, I realized how big these holes were. It is not the kind of sadness that overwhelms you or leaves you incapacitated. It is the kind that very slowly seeps into your bones. Makes you fade a little. Makes your heartache ever so slightly on a rainy day.

One would assume that at this point, I would turn to say...I had a new best friend in my boyfriend, now husband, and life slowly started picking up. But it didn't, at least not to a great extent. He tried, but try as he may, he didn't get the needless chatter from my girls. The need for a random walk in the evening or me needing an opinion on how to fix my sleep routine to which sunscreen works best.

So I built a new routine and decided to crack open my heart. And boy was it wonderful!

So I built a new routine and decided to crack open my heart. And boy was it wonderful! The first thing I did was to make a routine of calling/texting my girls back in my home country. My best friend and I scheduled times, tallied notes on workouts, and found a new closeness in the distance. I decided to call my sister almost every day, even if it was for ten minutes.

I found a new mentor in my mother-in-law, a wise woman well-versed in the challenges of living away. I also found a gaming partner in my sister-in-law, as we shared puzzles solved each day.

And my broken heart found some amazing women, who embraced me and lifted me up. You see, when you know too well, the process of being uprooted, you don't waste any time in helping others find their's .

I met new women and long-lost friends. I stayed in touch and made it a point to keep in touch. They reciprocated in helping me. Whether it was to pick sunscreen, work my new job, recommendations of winter wear, or watch the ballet with me.

I found a way for my husband to get the need for needless chatter!

And so today, as I sat on my couch reading. The leaves were falling, creating a silence perfected by the beauty of the riot of colors around me. The coffee cup was steaming. The world was perfectly still and my heart was full.

It has been a year of some things lost but so many things found. The tiny tendrils are starting to take root, all the while never forgetting where they came from.