Leaving the Garden Behind

This past weekend we had to move out of our island home to a home off island we rent for the school year. We've done this move now three years in a row. The first year was difficult for me and our two smaller children (grades 2,3 then). The older two were tickled - more friends, more things to do, more teachers, more athletic options, more music opportunities, the world was a richer place for them. Me? Well, I was in mourning. I missed our simple way of life on the island, I missed our friends (20 years worth), I missed my running routes, I missed  the other children.  Most of all, I missed my garden. I feel a familiar feeling of dread leaving it this week, but looking at the positive side, I brought lots of produce with me.  I know I can return, another weekend, or on a holiday (next one October ?).
I learned, slowly, that mourning takes time. I don't mean time like hours, I mean years. Everything looked negative to me when we left, it seemed so final. We were not part of the community anymore, other families wouldn't understand our reasons for moving, my younger children would never make friends like they had on the island, life would become too busy, there would be too much to do. The list got overwhelming. My savior was being invited to a local yoga class. I went faithfully each Tuesday night and learned a new way to breathe, to accept life as it was and to move on one day, one moment at a time. My garden will wait, tomatoes will ripen, the grass and weeds can grow while I am away from it. The cosmos and day lilies will continue to bloom, others walking by can enjoy them. It's alright. I know I can go back. That makes me smile.