Camping Roots

10 July 2025:

This photo sets the tone for the last time we went camping. They just finished six months of online school and we wanted to get them out of town. She was fourteen and lonely. And we took her into deep woods. Those months had been brutal for her. For all of us.

Many folk had talked about how lucky we were to be on the island during Covid. All that nature and freedom. But we were as stuck as any other family. In our own little bubble to protect elderly parents and health concerns of tiny neighbours. There weren't a lot of kids her age on the island. And my job sucked all of the life from me. Working to educate others in a synchronous world were every second counted.

But I trusted in my girl. Because of her foundation. Because she was such a solid kid. Because we communicated. Because she was attached to me and we were so tight. And we had so much love and fun. And this too shall pass.

I came back to the island initially to be close to family while we were going back and forth from Toronto and Tulum. And a house came up for sale. She can make roots was the sentiment from those around me. She can be stable and create a home for her kids in this community. After the breakdown of my relationship and business.

They didn't know that some wildflowers are not meant to have those kinds of roots. Some of us need to pick up and go when we need to pick up and go. And that our roots are ourselves. We will always find our way back home, but she and I are birds of a feather. Itching for more adventure and experience on this planet.

I became a teacher to further deepen those roots of stability. And provide for and ground my family. I love my job. But the irony is not lost on me how those things that I chose for us that were meant to bring us stability and consistency would bring us harm? Purchasing my house brought me harm from other's envy. My work took me away from my kids. And relationships I let let me astray from myself.

I taught her to follow her passion as I had. And to seek out what her gut told her. As I had. Until I hadn't. Until I succumbed to those external pressures. Home. Work. Relationships. What I wouldn't do to have not dug myself in so deep into what we think should be carved out for us. To let myself be guided again by my intuition rather than practicality.

And here I am. Forced back into being myself. And blocking out all of the noise. I am so grateful to have the home I have now. And my community. And my job. And those new and old that have shouldered my weight through this new identity I am becoming.

But what I wouldn't do to be that circus again. That person that others questioned. That person that didn't use to give a shit what others thought until I did and now don't again. That person who was me before I too succumbed to conforming pressures of our external realities. And maybe she would still be with me if I had chosen that path.

But I digress. I will always have those what ifs. They come and go. They are a part of me forever. Just as she is. The guilt washes over me. I let it in and out. Like my breath. My constant companion rooted deep within me. I am my own roots. That I wish I remembered and yet I taught her. That girl who knew herself and would still if she was here. Deeply rooted in all she did.