When my husband asked me a couple of months ago if I regretted our move to Texas, I had to think for a moment before I gave him an honest “no.” We had a good five years here, and the sixth year was rough for a pile of different reasons. But those good five years, and the good moments in that sixth year, just highlighted the many things, positive and negative, that we learned about our temporarily adopted state.
2021 is going to include a lot less airplane travel, time zone changes, extra-large suitcases, or language translation, but I think it will be quite an adventure nonetheless. And if it doesn’t include packing up a home over Facetime or leaving people we care about without so much as a goodbye, I’m ok with a little bit quieter year.
It’s September, and the garden will soon begin its gentle decline. It won’t be long until the ground freezes and nothing can grow again until next spring. But the lessons from the garden—the patient acceptance of what is here, the challenging reframe of messiness into abundance, and the hopeful belief in “try again”—are seedlings I can feed and foster no matter the season. For that, I am grateful.