With tiny hands, six of us family members took turns picking teammates and using the little grabbers to collect locks and gems in a new game Amazon dropped on our doorstep—a game my girlfriend swears by. It’ll likely become a fun ritual, and I can’t help but laugh at the teamwork and my $6 million win, despite my leaving the game early to write.
Life here in the South is finding its rhythm. I’m keeping connected with friends and family back home in new ways, and that’s grounding me. Evelyn FaceTimes her best buddy Ethan, I chat with Kristen on her I-5 commute to her psych manager role at Western State, and my friends are always sending updates and photos. Surprisingly, I’m not feeling the sting of the move.
Instead, I’m soaking in the gains. Having Grandma and Papa just an hour and a half away means visits are and will be more frequent. We’ve hosted family from next door two nights in a row, started planting our orchard, and are leaning into a shared life of togetherness and community—these moments are precious.
Then there’s the food—a homemade Calamondin pie that was as bright orange and tart as key lime, with a tangerine twist, set in a graham cracker, brown sugar, and butter crust. It was a first-time taste for me, but with homemade whipped cream and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, it went down just right.
I feel loved, deeply and securely loved, and that’s because of everyone around me. Thank you, truly, for being part of it.
Tonight, I’ve got a 9 p.m. session lined up. I’m catching a moment to write now because I know I’ll be wiped by the time it wraps up. Evelyn is wielding her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle nunchucks in the corner, some family members are swiping through their phones, Archie’s snoozing, and the Kraken are up 6 to 1 going into the third period. Feels like a good night.
T-minus three minutes to session time. I’ve got my glass under the fridge sensor for an auto-refill, though I’m not holding my breath for that feature to deliver a full glass. Alright, here goes nothing.
I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 