Rootless

In which you’ve sung me home

I came here rootless, one of those here-one-day-gone-the-next millennials that weevils into your roots when you’re not looking. We’re generally a toxic bunch, hollowing out localities with our disinterest in history and community, turning homes into places to sleep and neighbours into parcel collectors.

So it meant something when you welcomed me with open warmth and a hefty handful of humour.

You let me piggy back your stories, rummage through the memories you’ve collected, and become part of something that began before I was born. You gave me rides, sent me emails and offered company when I had no one else nearby, weaving a net that would catch me without a second’s thought.

And you always keep a weather eye out for anyone sitting alone.

I find the ecosystem you’ve created utterly beautiful – you’re a bastion for my faith in humanity. 

This is what kindness can build.

No longer a parasite, you’ve let me graft to your trunk, so I can begin to call your roots my own.