Learning To Fly

A dismembered wing of a mallard duck my Dad killed hunting housed in a plastic bag is what my second-grade self brought to show-in-tell. And at 40-years-old, the irony was not lost on me when I stood on my front lawn this morning, mouth agape in awe at seeing the final few of my pet ducks learn how to fly.

I also love the irony of how my Mom listened to protest rock songs, belted out “Eve of Destruction” and “War, good god y’all. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing!” as her Dad, a Lieutenant Commander in the Navy, fought in Vietnam and WWII.

There’s nothing like a best friend and the ground covered in a phone call. Realizing I’d left my checkbook at home and needing to pay my office space’s rent, I placed the phone to my ear, pushed my friend’s face in one of the top three slots on the screen, and set off in the car.

Three rings, a lazy “Yello,” and we’re off. She describes the new sea urchin’s body and its scrub brush eating/pooping conveyer belt system she’s fascinated with. I turn left up the hill on Sumner/Tapps highway and reassure her I’ll finish the reference she needs for her new job.

She empties the dishwasher and lets out a massive sigh at seeing a coffee cup on the shelf where the bowls go. I relate. Last week, I found a cooking spatula in the drawer for prep kitchen tools. She laughs hysterically, “We need a YouTube channel to talk about our man problems.”

Her goal for the new year is not to doubt herself in her career. Again, I relate, specifically with blogging and how, for months, I focused on my insecurities but got sick of it and stopped caring so much. So much so that I wrote about the incident yesterday. Which, again, made her laugh.

By now, I had heated up chili, had the checkbook in hand, and slammed the bean and meat soup in my belly before heading back down the hill to work. The thirty-minute up, in, and back down was a perfect check-in, update, and barometer check that our friendship was in tip-top shape. Not that I ever had any doubt.

After a day of ping-ponging from task to task, I can finally reflect and say it worked. I did the year-end tallies for my business’s income, expenses, and taxes, and the crazy adventure Dave and I undertook with budgeting after he quit his job a year ago worked. I’m not going to skimp; we hit a home run.

I had one of the best days of my life today, likely from the string of positive days prior. I didn’t go to Disneyworld or cruise to the Bahamas either. I went to work, took care of responsibilities, and saw a few of my ducks fly for the first time.

A passion-driven and meaningful life are real. Sure it takes discipline and hard work to get and maintain, but it is real. I’m grateful for all I’ve done and do to create these meaningful experiences for myself.

Love, Jaclynn

One thought on “Learning To Fly

  1. I like how I can check in on these blog posts and read these and not feel like I missed much. That sounded like a back handed compliment but what I mean is that I am not lost in some inside joke or something from a previous post that I am confused by at the time of reading. I obsess over things continually, but more of a flavor of the month type obsession. Some moments it’s work, others hobbies, but currently it’s going to Vegas again. I am reaching for that “best days of my life” type of feeling that you described in todays writing. Thanks for putting it in perspective that the “best day of my life” type feeling can be had by doing the normal and mundane tasks at home. Appreciate you!


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