Rooted

A house on our street is up for sale. The sign went up over the weekend. Since I live at the end of a dead-end street, we saw the tell-tale stream of strange cars. "Open house," my wife announced. In a few clicks, we found the listing, whistled at the price, and went on with our day, watching the cars go back and forth.

My family has lived in this house since March of 1997. Yep: Twelve years. My wife and I are rooted here in town. Our daughter was born in 2001 and now attends the nearby public school. We were just there for a school concert, and we saw lots of familiar faces, all rooted like us.

There are times when I badly wish we could just pull up our roots, and make a stake someplace else. Boredom is the cause. Sometimes I think it's just a desire to see if could lay down roots some place else. I like to think that I could do it. Of course, uprooting a whole family just because "I'm bored" is the height of selfishness.

I went out for take out during the open house. I saw the cars parked in front of the house for sale. There were a lot of visitors. Someone will be moving in over the next month or so (or sooner, who knows). I wonder if they were bored where they originally lived. I wonder if they were rooted like I feel I am.