They say to,
“Bloom where you are planted.”
Well, I was planted- and transferred- 13 times throughout my childhood.
Don’t get me wrong, multiple moves throughout my childhood and early adult life has been great in so many ways: With homes in cities ranging from Chicago or Long Beach, California to Columbus, Ohio and Indianapolis I have learned to enjoy a multitude of things. I have tried and seen a lot.
But, never really gave myself time to Bloom. Time to know what I am great at. Or to know what I really love.
Until about three years ago.
I was planted.
I was planted on eighty acres of farm land about an hour north of Indianapolis. Are you trying to figure out where? Are you having a hard time imagining it? Well, let’s just put it this way… it’s not exactly Long Beach.
It’s never where I thought I would end up.
Actually… It’s never where anyone who knew me before the age of twenty thought I would end up.
Everyone pegged me to spend my twenties in a little apartment in a big city. To date, travel, work hard and play harder… all with a Starbucks in hand, US Weekly in the other and fabulous shoes on my feet.
Instead, my father walked me down the aisle at the ripe age of twenty three and I moved into a house in the middle of a big field in a town so small that even my high school had more people.
The move cost me a great job with a predominant marketing agency just as my career was starting out. I was even told that because of the move to the country I was cutting off my “life line.”
The thing is, the move did just the opposite.
Moving to the country, living on and off of eighty acres with my handsome husband didn’t cut off my life line.
It brought me to life.
I am not just planted.
But, I have finally been able to establish my roots.
I have finally been able to Bloom.
(And I didn’t have to give up my fabulous shoes.)