An Orchid Like Me, Escaping the Confines of the Pot

I was sitting outside drinking coffee this morning, enjoying what is likely the last of the warm weather this year, and I was thinking about my orchid.  I know that seems like a random thing to think about but go with me on this. 

I have this orchid, and I bought it right after we moved to this house last summer.  It was beautiful!  This is the third orchid I have had in my life, as I do not have a green thumb at all.  I can kill a silk flower!  Usually, my orchids die off and I throw them away, and start over with a new one a year or so later.  However, this orchid appears to be thriving!  Several months ago, I sent a picture of my plant with what appeared to be new shoots growing to John and asked if I should attach them to the sticks to make them grow upward.  He sent back a message with a laughing emoji and said, “Those are roots dear!” 

A few weeks later, John (my orchid guru and BFF) came up to teach me how to repot the plant to a larger pot.  We went to Lowe’s, and I picked a beautiful blue pot, and got the new wood chips and a plastic liner and all the things John recommended that I get.  We came to the house and began the process of removing the moss from the roots of the orchid, and finally training those roots that were growing toward the sun to grow into the pot like good, well-trained roots should do. 

It has only been about three months or so since we did this, and don’t you know?  There are new, baby roots that clearly didn’t get the message about staying in the pot!  They are growing up toward the sun again!  Meanwhile, the plant itself is leaning like it is in Pisa so the old roots can try to shoot up toward the sun too.

So, why was I thinking about this orchid today, you may ask?  I was thinking that this orchid is a lot like me.  I refused to stay where I was planted.  I refused to stay in my pot and continued to reach outside the pot for something that I thought was lacking in my pot.  Society said we should look a certain way, act a certain way, and go off to college once we graduate from high school.  I had short, jet-black hair, and I didn’t wear the pastels that were so popular during the 80s.  I wore all black, and I listened to punk music.  It wasn’t unusual for me to wear white theater makeup and I spent an entire summer inside while we went to the beach in Southern California so that I would stay pale.  

Society rarely expects a young lady to graduate from high school and join the military, although it is more common now than it was thirty years ago, but that is what I did.  Instead of going to college, I chose a life of discipline, which was a complete turn-around from the wild girl I had been in high school.  Instead of staying up all night and sleeping all day, I was up early and went to bed early.  Instead of having the wild clothes, I started dressing more conservatively. 

I lived and traveled throughout Europe and the US as a Sailor.  During my career, I lived mostly off-base, so I became incredibly good at setting down roots, and making my apartments and houses “home,” even if only for a few short months.  I adapted to the ways of the culture where I was living, decorated my house with local flair, and learned to speak and drive in other countries and even New England (As a southerner, I consider New England to be almost another country because everything was different there from where I was raised, but I adapted.).  Always, though, my roots were escaping the confines of our pot, reaching for the next pot, reaching for the next phase, reaching for something new.  

That orchid is a visual representation of what my life has been for the past thirty-plus years.  It is thriving but letting me know that it is ready for the next pot.  I guess I had better get to Lowe’s and get all the supplies I need.