Uprooting – Session 2

Uprooting – a fictional journey by Suzie Carr

(missed the last post? Read here first.)


Now, at thirty years of age, with a bit of grit and determination on my side, I drew a large breath and let it linger as I stared at a dainty, white-flowered wreath on the red front door in front of me.

I glanced around the front yard of the Oasis Wellness Retreat Center. Not a weed in sight. A nice hearty layer of new red mulch protected the roots of a series of fluffy bushes manicured to precision. Pretty red petunias lined the mulch bed and not one single clover grew from the lush grass that stretched on for what seemed like ten city streets. The sun shone brightly in the deep blue spring sky and the wind tickled my face.

So much beauty presented itself in that moment. Everything shined with a sunny glow that early May afternoon. The daffodils and the large trees breathed a collective sigh of relief at the break in the rainy weather from overnight. Mid-Atlantic springs always awed me with all its greenery and colorful flowering trees.

With spring came potential. It flirted with the air, bringing it to within a fingertip’s reach.

Potential was a good thing. It meant things could change. Bad circumstances could be set to a new and improved frequency. Stress could dissipate in the wake of good intention. Life could shine again once the clouds thinned and opened a new pathway.

I learned to love change.

After all, butterflies could only fly after experiencing change. They transformed from terrestrial crawlers to gorgeous majestic beings who caused jaws to drop and hope to glisten in the remnants of moisture created by the morning dew.

If I understood one important thing, it was that life changed rapidly.

I learned to embrace that fluidity.

In fact, I counted on it like I did the air I breathed. With it as my constant companion, I guaranteed myself a dynamic ride through some of life’s most challenging times. Like right then, a time when I prepped to knock on the front door of YouTube sensation, Ivy Homestead’s, retreat center.

Show up and stay in flight.

Butterfly wings.

I steadied my fist for the knocking, drawing in a ridiculously large breath to sustain whatever I might experience on the other side of that door.

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