Heidi’s Hostas

Hostas completely surrounded my childhood house. Mom planted them across the front yard, around the small fish pond, and along the trail to the backyard. My mom would trim them every year, and always found a new home for them. She’d replant them elsewhere around the house, or give them to neighbors and friends. She likes Hostas because they are perennials and they fill a lot of space. My mom always has a set plan with her goals clearly stated. After my parents got divorced, she bought a house. She dug up the hostas from the old house to plant them at the new house. I remember all the work that went into making that new house a home for us. Painting, new floors, and, of course, gardening. Over my 24 years, I have helped my mom paint flower beds, plant mulch, lay concrete brick walls, weed, and shop for all of the plants. Going to K-Mart and mom would say “we aren’t here for plants,” though somehow we would almost always leave with a new plant. The first time I helped squeeze the flowers from the plastic containers I was concerned with getting dirty or touching worms, then I looked at my mom covered with dirt. I don’t know when mom is happiest, at the store, doing the process, or admiring the addition she made to her home. 
I grew up in Dubuque, Iowa, a small-ish midwest town on the Mississippi River. The last five generations on both sides of my family grew up in this town, and almost everyone has stayed. My mom hosts family lunches every Sunday and almost every family member attends. I always went shopping with her in preparation. She’d cook full meals and everyone else would bring snacks. Somehow she is able to cook, clean, socialize, and host meaningful gatherings every single week. I could stop by anyone’s house unannounced with open arms. Dubuque is a hard town to leave because of how family oriented it is. 
I stayed in Dubuque for all the way through college. But I decided I wanted to pursue graduate school somewhere else. I wanted to experience life outside of Dubuque by meeting new people, trying new experiences, and simply learn more about the country. After I graduated from college, my partner, Lucas, and I went on a 22 day road trip where we traveled graduate programs and visited National and State Parks. It was an amazing journey that was powered by love. We ultimately decided to move to Portland, Oregon. We were both taken by combination of a lively city scene with access to beautiful natural landscapes. We were downtown Portland at noon, and on a mountain by 1. 
We moved into a beautiful apartment that had a run off of the Willamette River in the backyard, a canopy of trees around our windows, and immediate access to the river, Oswego Lake, and basic necessities. We took off to the Oregon coast at random, hiked the mountain on weekends, and experienced opportunities the city had to offer. We tried not to do the same thing twice. All I wanted to do was share places I found, events I attended, send pictures of scenery with my family. How have they never seen or done this? We got our jobs, built our routines, and made some friends. Lucas and I ended up working opposite schedules; I didn’t really have anyone to explore with while he was working. I tried hard to make friends, bring family to me, and travel by myself. Everything became about effort and not the exciting mundane. I really began to miss those Sunday lunches, random visits, and yard work and grocery store trips with my mom. I began feeling a mix of excitement, love, trust, isolation, and confusion. Is all of the beauty and opportunity out here worth the distance from my family?
When I came home for my first visit after moving to Oregon, I helped my mom with Fall yard work. We painted her window flower beds bright royal blue. I felt more connected to this activity than ever before. I realized these events where the mundane moments I missed the most. We dug up hostas and she offered to send some in my suitcase. When I got back to Oregon, I realized just how special it would have been to have a piece of my mom’s hosta 2,000 miles away from her. I went to the Portland Nursery and I bought my first hosta and planted it in a blue pot. The plant remained on our coffee table and began to represent my mom within my new home. I began thinking of other ways that could help bridge the distance I began feeling between my family and I. I went out and bought various types of “impatience”—my mom’s favorite flower—and potted them in my backyard. 
I thought back to the hostas, gardening, and the home building that I witnessed my mom doing for the past 24 years. I missed the way that she had done it, and realized it was time to build my own. I continue to think back to things that I miss about my mom’s house, and try to bring my own pieces of that into my life. I have now developed quite a house-plant collection which has been grown from clippings from special people within my life and my journey. I trade and give clippings from some of my own favorite plants to people that I have built a special relationship with. What I learned is that plants are a part of home and represent relationships within my life. They have an intentional beginning as they continue to grow as the caregiver does as well. Their growth embodies a memory and a moment in time that establishes a daily connection. 
My mom and I have managed to travel to one another or meet somewhere at least every 3 months. We promised each other that before we moved. Although, on average I see the rest of my family about every 5-6 months. For special occasions, I have always tried to bring my presence to Dubuque in a special way. For my sister's birthday, I pretty much tracked her around all day and had a small surprise at each place, such as breakfast at work, balloons in her cab ride, and shots of tequila at her favorite bar. I’ve done the same for many family members, trying to show my love and my efforts dispute the distance between us. 
I am always thinking of ways that I can be more connected to my family from a distance. I have recently begun PenPal relationships with 3 family members: my mother Heidi, my five year old nephew Carter, and my Grandmother Betty. When I realized that I can bring different traits from special memories to my life here, it has made the feeling of isolation go away. It’s important to exercise your relationships and maintain connections from a distance and there are many ways of doing that. I look forward to see if any more PenPal relationships with my family members will emerge in the future. My sister is probably next.
After two-and-a-half years of living in Portland, Lucas and I just recently bought a house. We have committed to building our first long-term home across the country from our families. We are practicing our family traditions as we are building our own. We got our keys on a Friday and my mom flew out the following Thursday. We focused on painting the kitchen, doing yard work, and helping build our home. The roles were reversed this time, and I loved showing my mom all that she has prepared me for over the years. She kept saying “You’re not 10 anymore.” I am great at building a warm home as I grew up learning from the best. During my mom’s upcoming Spring visit, I intend on working with her to plant hostas within my own yard.