Roots

Today we have been planting two pear trees in our garden. We have quite a collection of fruit trees now, and I absolutely adore them all. I couldn’t be more excited to see them become established, grow, hopefully one day bear fruit. I love the thought of the trees growing with my children, of them picking and eating the fruit that has grown with them.

I read an article recently encouraging you to try and identify your core values in life, and to live your life more honestly in accordance with those. I think one of my core values is stability. Now stability is not exciting or glamorous. I am well aware of that. Part of me wishes that I was more adventurous. I have travelled, and I enjoyed it, and hope to do it again one day, but it definitely doesn’t feed my soul like I know it does for some people. I do not crave new experiences and new places.

I love my job that I have been doing for the past eight years, and am happy at the thought of still doing in another 18. I like turning up each shift and knowing everybody and where everything is and how everything works. I love our house that we have bought, and even though it’s not the dream I had, and it’s not the biggest or fanciest, I don’t find myself dreaming about moving up the ladder, trading up to something bigger and better. I dream of my grown up children coming back to visit when they’re grown up, with lives, maybe homes and families of their own, and reminiscing about their childhood.

I realise I may feel differently one day. We may grow out of this space, out of my job, long for new experiences, but right now I am so content with knowing we have our very own corner of this world that is ours. I think of all the trees we have planted here and imagine their roots growing downwards, strong and sure, anchoring themselves and our family into this world. So it’s not exciting and glamorous, but it makes me happy.

The plan was to dig the holes and get everything prepared to plant them with our daughter once she got home, in the short slot after school, before the sun set and I had to set off for my eight hour disco shift. Me and my husband had been chatting about childhood memories, and hoping our children would remember these moments, and take them forward in their lives. Our daughter arrived home, we got wellied up, and I was feeling all smug and content with my blessed life, as I took this photo of her and her brother co-operating beautifully to plant their memory making pear trees.

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Then he got soil in her welly, then she got soaked trying to fill a watering can. This quickly descended into her having a full blown rage, the kicking, shouting, hitting, growling rage, where we have to drag her from the garden all of us getting covered in mud from her flailing wellies.

Thankfully my super content with life managed to carry me through, and I stayed calm and supported her and empathised and soothed. Miraculously by the time I had to leave for work she was happily watching Peter Rabbit cartoons, taking turns picking her episode. In the end I think it all stemmed from her feeling left out that we’d dug the holes without her whilst she was at school.

Who knows which, if any of those memories she ends up carrying onwards with her, planting the trees together, Mummy helping her when she was angry and upset, or how pissed off she was with us all for leaving her out of things. I guess I have no control over that, but I guess I just have to keep trying, and hopefully these deep roots will keep us all steady in the end.

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