Roots

I'm stuck. Again. I am like my friend's basil plant, growing roots anywhere you put me. My roots are currently sunk in deep out here in the country and I love being home, but lately I have developed a raging case of cabin fever. These wonderful walls are closing in on me and I sometimes have trouble breathing. Yes, this is symptomatic of anxiety and I could easily take a chill pill and get over it. But I'd rather leave for a while and go somewhere far, far away.

My maternal grandparents can be traced back to 14th century England where Berengar de Langestan was born in Devon around 1330. They migrated throughout England and eventually crossed the Atlantic to the New World and down to Wakulla County. My paternal grandparents have been traced back to Thomas Boykin, born around 1620 in Kent, England. His family followed a similar migration pattern and some eventually ended up in LaGrange, Georgia where my father was born. With marriages occurring on both side of the family, the bloodline contains dashes of German, French and whatever those folks in Barbados are. But the majority of what makes up this entity known as myself is English and Creek. So why am I so drawn to the Mediterranean?

I have been enamored of Italy and the Greek Isles since high school when I first studied the art and culture in Humanities class. In 2007 I got the opportunity of a lifetime when I was awarded a travel fellowship in honor of one of my high school teachers. I enlisted a friend as a travel buddy and headed straight for the Aegean Sea. Ah, the sun, the water, the architecture, the art, the people, the food, the wine, the room service! It was a whirlwind tour of Athens, Rhodes, Crete, Santorini, Patmos, and Ephesus, Turkey but those are eight red-letter days on the calendar of my life. Holledays as I call them.

I am overdue for another Holleday. Like most single parents, my life is a vicious cycle of work, laundry, cooking, dishwashing, chauffeuring, refereeing, counseling, and money managing. During the school year I feel like an automaton on a track with no chance of escape unless the power goes out. Seriously. Power outage = adventure. That is sad. Especially when I live within an hour of the most beautiful coastline in our country. But that is work, too. I am so drained that the thought of taking my kids on vacation this summer is more daunting than staying home with them. That is the same work in a different location. No, I need to get away. I need the Aegean Queen with her stewards and culinary artists and Greek ports of call. I need the azure sea and sunshine that melts on my skin like buttah. I need the ancient wisdom of ruined temples and my guide, Georges, with his yellow umbrella. I need someone to yank me out of this daydream before I sprout roots!