A tree to hug

The other night I went out to walk and got only a few blocks away, knowing I had errands to run, and decided to change my plan.

I didn't need the Suburbs. I'd been walking enough, freeing my mind enough, enjoying the 'burbs enough, that I could finally stay close to home and walk in a city park.

I chose the one closest to my home, that also happens to be the most popular, the most beautiful.
I haven't been there much because it has steep hills and a "lake" and I'm probably too cautious when I'm alone with the girls but I worry ...

I was mid-walk, shoulders falling away from my ears, when I remembered all the pre-children walks we had in that park. I looked up and realized I was surrounded by dozens and dozens of big, beautiful, wise trees. These beauties came to life right before my eyes.

Not spending enough time in nature over the last 2.5 years has gotten to me, I guess, and I've been slightly obsessed with trees. They now adorn our living room, this blog banner and anything else I can find. Journals, necklaces (though, the girls broke it).

It occurred to me during this walk that I've been scurrying out to the suburbs in search of something that I could actually find closer to home, in the city. Those metro-area parks have their highlights that I love, but they are, without a doubt, mostly treeless. Or, the trees are still babies, memorializing someone's life.

I walked under the trees; they embraced my worries and troubles. They held me close as I realized that I'm not really searching to be outside the city; I'm searching to be a part of something.

That, in effect, has always summed up my existence. We moved to the city to make a difference.

As I thought about this I realized that living in the city is only great if you leave it, and often. The more you are here, the more it can work at your nerves. And I'm here a lot. All the time, in fact.

But, if I lived in Suburbia -- and I will eventually -- I'll want to be in the city. I'll miss those trees, the walks to the farmer's markets and downtown events. Those new, mixed-use communities are on to something. It's what feels right. Open space, everything you need in one spot and community that is close to home.

Community. That's what I was all about until I became a mother. Even in high school I was someone who wanted the best for everyone, not just a few. In the back of my mind I have remained that woman, but it's been hard to juggle it all. I wonder how I'll be able to let go of my mother-self to help represent all people, including the childless, in my new job.

During an interview with a source this week for my very last freelance gig, he told me about how he sent his three children through city schools, and how they had fears going in about being bullied or not faring well, academically.

In the end, he said, "We decided not to fall prey to our imagined fears." They left the door open for an easy exit ... but they never needed it. The kids are nearly all grown up.

That is staying with me. I have a lot of imagined fears. I guess I have a lot of imagined promises, too. If I've learned anything, the let down of imagined promises is much harder to bear.

My mom lives in a very rural location in the mountains of Georgia. She's mentioned a neighborhood bear. (Oh, god). I am sure it will be beautiful, and a welcome relief from city life. I'm open to this welcomed relief, knowing that rural settings actually scare me at night. I like being able to see my feet when I walk.

I recall long ago, when my brother was in middle school, he wrote an essay that declared, "I hate the city."

That statement hurt me not because of his honesty but because he didn't know the city. He's never spent anytime here. None of my family really has. Or any city for that matter.

Cities get a bad rap and it's frustrating. People hate on the cities and yet get mad because developers are buying up farmland to build more new houses.

Our city has plenty of available housing. Just waiting.

Waiting for people to love on its gigantic, old trees.

Waiting for people to get over their imagined fears.


Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader