Biiiiig Stretch

Back when I went on sabbatical in 2022, I told the story of the fiddle leaf fig tree I bought shortly after my ex-wife and I separated and I’d moved into my own apartment.

I’d recently moved into my own apartment after separating from my wife and figured a large plant in my new place would add some liveliness to a new beginning that was feeling overwhelming, lonely, and sad. For the first couple of months, I didn’t know if my tree and I were going to make it. I’d never really had a plant before and struggled getting a handle on the watering schedule and other plant care routines. It started losing leaves. Like, an alarming number of leaves.

I’d brought this glorious living thing into my house only to kill it! Not cool. With the stress of the separation, my new living situation, and not seeing my kids every day, I felt a little like I was dying too.

One day, I decided I was not going to let my fiddle leaf fig tree die…and if I could do that, I wasn’t going to fall apart either. It’s a little corny, but my mantra became “if my tree is ok, I am ok”. I learned how to water & feed it and figured out the best place to put it for the right amount of light. It stopped shedding leaves.

The fig tree was a happy plant for several years after that. And I was ok because my plant was ok — I found new routines and rhythms in my altered life, made new traditions with my kids, got divorced, met new people, moved to a new state (w/ my family and tree), rediscovered who I was as a person, and, wonderfully and unexpectedly, forged a supportive and rewarding parenting partnership and friendship with my ex. We made it through that tough time together, that plant and me.

I got a lot of feedback from that post…so many kind notes and comments. But there was one email from a reader that particularly stuck in my mind. Of course I can’t find the actual message in my disaster of an inbox, but the gist of it was something like: There may come a time when you feel like you need to let your fiddle leaf fig go and that will be ok too.

Over the next few years, I thought often of that email. About how my tree, which in some sense kept me going during one period of my life, might not be quite right for whatever the next period in my life would be.

Recently, that time arrived. I carried the fig out to my car, stopping to snap this pic on the way:

I loaded it into the car and drove it a short distance to its new home with my friend and her three young boys. Here it is in its new habitat:

Looks pretty good, right? Like it belongs there. I’m really happy it found such a good new home. I hope it thrives along with their family.

A few days ago, about two weeks after the tree departed, I left my house in Vermont for the last time too. In the preceding months, I’d sold some of my things (including my car), given a bunch of stuff away, and put the rest in storage. I drove my rental car to Boston and got on a flight to Toyko. Right now, I’m sitting in a cafe near my rental apartment writing this post, jetlagged but happy to be here.

So what’s my plan? I’m going to travel for an indeterminate period (mostly outside of the US and dipping back in for visits), starting in Japan for a couple of months. I don’t know where I’m going next yet — probably somewhere closer to the US so I can visit my kids more easily during this transition.

Zooming out a bit, the broader plan is to attempt to answer the questions that I’ve been thinking about for the past few years, ever since I went on a Walk and Talk in Thailand:

Where do you call home? And why?

I’ve been struggling with the concept of home for the past several years. NYC very much felt like home to me shortly after I moved there in 2003 in a way that Minneapolis and (especially) San Francisco hadn’t. Since moving to Vermont in 2016, I’ve never really felt at home here. But NYC isn’t home anymore…and neither is Wisconsin, where I grew up. Where do I want to go to find a home? Do I need to feel at home somewhere? Or is home simply wherever my bed/desk/stuff happens to be? I had more questions than answers around this issue and I was interested in how other people in the group, which included folks that had lived and travelled all over the world, would answer the question.

I’m not going to lie…I’m a little terrified. Sitting on the plane to Narita, I looked out the window thinking “what have I done?” But I’m also excited. Living elsewhere in the world has been on my mind for a long while and at this point, I can’t not do it. I’ll let you know how it goes.

As for what this means for KDO: hopefully not much and only good things. I moved; I didn’t retire. As I get more settled here and my body accepts its new timezone, regular service will resume. I’m hoping the more stimulating surroundings and injection of culture shows up in interesting ways in my life and on the website. I don’t think KDO will ever become a travel blog, but I imagine I’ll write sometimes about where I am and what I’m doing. I’ve got a backlog of things I want to do for the site and now that the massive time sink of moving is done, I’ll have the opportunity to do them.

For now, I’m going to pack my computer up and walk to find something tasty for lunch — I’ve so missed being able to easily do that. Catch you on the flip side.

• Jason Kottke
• kottke.org