And your feet going nowhere

Another year begins. This one much closer to my thirties than before, a scary number, one that says grown up and houses and families and children and settled and grounded and grown up.

And what have we learned from this, another year in the life of being gracefullypunk? I feel that, most of all, the year of 27 has been one of me learning that roots are not necessarily bad. After all, cut off the roots and the plant is dead, right? There is still a part of me--a large part--that wants to explore, to see the world, to take flight. But I've realized that what I've fought for so long has come back to me. I have found a place I fit. You can't put down roots just anywhere. Living back in the Northwest gives me history, it gives me fresh air, a culture I relate to, and most of all family.

I still struggle, sometimes, with the concept of normality, and groundedness, but I've come to realize that I'll always be putting my individual spin on things. I don't need to keep running away or planning exotic trips or trying to write a novel or aiming for a perfect job because I don't have to prove anything.

So that, my friends, is what my 27th year has taught me. In a nutshell. It wasn't so easy. It hurt a lot. There was heartbreak and leaving and surgeries and unemployment and fear and more heartbreak. But when I look back, I see that this is the year that helped me put down my roots.

What will 28 bring? I don't think I want to know. But I hope it will involve new recipes, a flourishing garden, a deeper relationship, a steady circle of friends, getting to celebrate with my family, plenty of baseball, new beers to taste, and new restaurants to visit.