My family is still on Hawaii time this morning as we dive back into routine and take on the day. There’s no way I could choose a favorite experience from our trip because so much of what we encountered the past few days has left a deep impression. A spattering volcano. A black sand beach. Raging waterfalls. A free-range horse ride, and stunning waves to name a few, not to mention the unplugged time together.
When we trekked down through a lava tube (a hole carved out underground from the fierce flow of lava) my eye kept gravitating to the roof of the cave-like tunnel. Long tendrils spiraled down over our heads. I asked our guide what the moss-like stringy roof décor was, conjuring stalagmites and glow worms in caves I’ve seen on nature programs.
The answer = roots.
Roots, of course. Because plants will grow where they will.
And I couldn’t think of anything else in the world that I can relate to more right now.
Why? Because we’re moving again. A year ago we signed the contract on our home in Georgia, and sometime in the next few months we’ll be signing a contract on a home in California.
I may not have roots planted in deep soil when it comes to a home town, but I have established memorable friendships and have garnered a strong sense of adaptability. I’m a pro at moving. But it comes with its own share of anguish, stress, fear, and raw emotion.
This song says it all . . .