Upsizing from the Yellow Brick Road

Once upon a time, there was a preteen girl who lived with her aunt and uncle in rural Kansas. It was a black and white world, with long periods of dullness punctuated by danger and excitement - an occasional fall into the pig sty, a visit from a mysterious psychic, or abduction of her dog. She longed to get the heck out of that place, and dreamed of a world beyond what she knew. But her attempts to escape on foot were foiled by harsh weather and GPS systems not being invented yet.

Eventually, she grew up, went to college, got married, and had children. Her experience of the world changed from black and white to vivid, intense and (sometimes) psychedelic multi-color, as she invented and re-invented herself through careers and hobbies - educator, artist, gardener, writer, volunteer fundraiser, non-profit executive. There were times when she swore the road she traveled was made of yellow brick, paved by each step she took.

In time, her kids moved out, and her husband retired. She had more time than ever to devote to herself, yet she chose to fill it with work. The wheel of her life began in Kansas with only one or two spokes, then grew to a dizzying dozen or more by the time she was 50 years old. As she approached 60, though, she had unintentionally reduced them to two: work and recovery from fatigue.

She found herself dreaming again. This time, it was about how to simply get back home. She had no intention to return to the black and white one of her youth; she wished for one that would continue to be richly colored by meaning, purpose, friendship, and, hopefully, grandchildren.

She also really liked wine, sushi and her Viking range, so she wasn't interested in going too far back into the simplicity of the past.

She noticed, though, that she longed for the best part of her upbringing in Kansas, which was a connection to the land, weather and seasons. In Kansas, sunny days meant planting, watering, walking or watching the birds. Cloudy days meant weeding or harvesting. Summer meant growth. Winter meant storing up energy. Spring felt hopeful; fall felt abundant. Kansas was not black and white; its hues came from the rhythm of nature tinged with tastes, smells, feelings and the warmth of spending time with friends and family.

Then, suddenly, the road she was traveling seemed to turn back on itself. She was presented with an opportunity that felt so counterintuitive, it woke her up.  Rather than making life simpler by downsizing, she had a chance to get back to having a parcel of land for gardening and recreation, with a big, old house thrown in for fun.

So, she and her husband decided that they would unapologetically upsize. They would fix up the big old house. He would view it as a business venture. She would create a new garden, and try to add back a couple of spokes to balance the wheel of her life. She also hoped that her imaginary grandchildren, whom she now compulsively nagged her children to provide her with, would visit her often.

Yes, there's no place like home. And although she was there all along, she needed to build the yellow brick road. Otherwise, how would she notice that she went on the journey she longed for as a girl?

Ok, I'll confess. 

This story is autobiographical, except that I really grew up with my parents, two brothers, and a sister in rural Pennsylvania. 

The rest is pretty accurate, though.