Roots, Wings and Tattoos

Remember in Mary Poppins, when the wind changes direction and it is time for Mary Poppins to open her umbrella and float away? Well it feels as if the winds are changing in my life.

After an unexpected post-college year at home, our son has left for a two year graduate program in Berlin many miles and time zones from home. Our daughter is set to leave for her second year of college and plans to spend next summer working far from home as well. My husband and I will actually be empty-nesters for the first time. And after 23 years of living our family dream, I will spend my days fulfilling new and different dreams of my own.

So when my daughter asked me to mark this moment by getting a tattoo with her, holding on to this moment of letting go, I said yes. Celebrating our special bond of a shared birthday, and inspired by the saying “First you give your children roots, and then you give them wings,” we decided we wanted a tree with two birds, one in the branches, one flying away. Josh McAlear, a wonderful artist at Redemption Tattoo created two different versions according to our visions and today was the day.

I cannot say it was an easy decision. Tattoos are common amongst the younger set, especially in Portland where my children grew up. Our son had already broken the ice in our family with a beautiful illustration by J.R. Tolkien on his upper arm.

But I am 52 and well aware of the negative feelings many people have towards tattoos. Perhaps – no, certainly – my decision will raise an eyebrow or two among people whose opinion I really do care about (sorry, Mom).

But for me, this tattoo is a symbol: a symbol of love, a symbol of intention, a symbol of gratitude, and a symbol of hope for this next stage in all of our lives. Sometimes a grand gesture is needed to mark the moment. Consider the moment marked. Let the winds change!

I include here a poem written by my daughter about a year ago. Just read it, and you might want to go get a tattoo too!

Departures

I.

You give your children roots

Then you give your children wings.

We know not what to do.

Our bodies spring loosely from the soil, reaching

for the sun.

Caked in the rich soils of our past,

our feet ache

to remain here

in fertile familiarity.

But our heads

see undiscovered horizons

and ache to fill each cavity

with

all that, out there.

Our hearts, right here,

right in the middle,

yearn for the answer.

The freedom to fly,

But strength

to carry our homes along for the ride.

II.

I once tried to fly away

too soon,

my feet caught among the brambles,

my skin stretched too thin across my rib cage.

Familiar hands tickled my sides

with rounded nails slightly too long.

I fell back to earth.

As the date crept ever closer,

I tried to burrow deeper,

Thought

maybe I’d like to be a seedling

again.

But I dirtied my wings,

and scraped my toes along the sheetrock.

III.

One day,

our roots loosened,

wings strengthened,

ready to weather the weight

of hearts grown heavy as rocks.

We took flight.

Mud dripped from our feet

to the grown-ups on the ground like toy figurines

shrinking in the final rays of day.

Wind will toss our bodies like rag dolls, tatter

our fragile wings.

Our feet will yearn for stability or permanence.

It’s departure time.

We’ll take what we’ve been given,

And figure the rest out

along the path.