Roots and Wings

The one thing I learned from buying a house -- I told my brother the other night when he asked if I could see myself settling in New York -- is that I'll never be settled anywhere.

When Rachel was visiting me this weekend, she talked about having roots and wings--
I don't have roots anymore, Rach.
"Is it because your parents moved?"
I'm sure it is.... if they were still in Montville, that would be 'home.' But there's no house to go home to in Montville, and Maryland's not my home. I wanted Philly to be, but clearly that didn't work either....

I was talking to my 'rents on Friday night. Not knowing about either conversation with Steve or Rachel, my mom said, "Anne, did we take away your roots when we moved?"
Yes.
"Did we give you wings?"
Yes, but I'm not sure what to do with them.

I remember when I bought my house in Philly I told a friend that I was establishing myself in Philly, putting down roots there, and staying for the long haul. His response? "You're not permanent here. You'll meet a guy who asks you to move to another city or back to England, and you'll be gone." I'm sure he didn't mean it to do this, but that conversation made me start thinking about moving. If I can't put down roots here, I need to find a place to call home. I need to be near my family; that will give me some stability. And I moved to New York to be near my brothers. But I don't know if this is home either, or if it ever will be. I think often how "heaven is my home"; but it doesn't make it easier to feel homeless here.

I fought so hard when I was younger to be independent. I didn't care about my roots; I just wanted wings. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, because I finally got these wings, and now I don't want them.

I'd like to trade them back in for some roots, but I don't know how.