I read a quote today by this man who said that he had his best ideas when he was working in his garden. This of course made me think of my grandmother who absolutely loved to be out in the garden, even in her late sixties and early seventies. She'd prod all of our lazy butts out of bed at 6 in the morning in the summer so that we could get our work done in the garden before the hot Georgia sun blazed us indoors. We all had "garden" shoes - caked with red clay - and little rough spots on our hands from pulling weeds. On a recent visit home I stood at the edge of that very same garden and watched my dad plow up weeds from between the rows. Granny and I used to pull the weeds that the digger couldn't reach - the ones growing right beside the individual plants. I couldn't help but see the two of us in my mind's eye - right there - so many years ago.
I find myself at a crossroads now. I have a career that I could stay in until retirement - I could move anywhere in the country as I move up in my field. I could give Sarah the cultural life I didn't have. But there is something nagging at me now.
My grandmother's home sits desolate and quiet now, in stark contrast to the place that it was to me and to my family before. It is so sad to look at it in such disrepair. It desperately needs some TLC. The one thing she loved as much as the garden in the summer was her house. She'd managed to build that little house herself and it was her sweat and hard work that made it such a great place - not it's market value.
I have an opportunity to go back to GA, to pick up right where I left off in the ER, to live in that little house and fix it up, make it home again.
I'm at a crossroads.
Too bad I don't have some weeds to pull to sort this all out.