The urge to write mounts like lava beneath the surface—little bubbles and steam venting into my thoughts and feelings. I’ve heeded its call enough to know when the giddiness and the wiser, more shareable thoughts reach their peak and need release.
Right now, I’m in land-sculpting mode. With my trusty Gorilla Cart and lifetime-warranty, all-metal rake, I pull damp, deeply layered leaves from around the base of trees, unearthing stubborn sticks tangled in their grip.
My body needed to be outside. After hours of cooking yesterday and today, the crisp oak-and-pine air, the chill of a cooler-than-usual day, and the sun’s long, slow wave goodbye made this time—out here, with my furry companion Archie—deeply calming.
Inside the house, I’d felt like I was running into the maze’s dead ends—looping back to TikTok, wondering what needed organizing next. There’s always another video, always something that needs folding. But today—Saturday—a day of recharging and loosening life’s grip—means doing so while truly connecting with my needs.
Dare I say, loving myself?
Seated here, watching the slow march of clouds across the sky, I wonder what the first people on Earth thought of them. Were they seagulls paddling their legs beneath them as the waves swept underneath? Or were they like a slow, steady oarless raft drifting endlessly across the ocean, day after day?
Not to derail that poetic thought too abruptly, but I just remembered something—something that excites me. Maybe terrifies me a little, too.
I played around and made a book cover. I don’t have a background in graphic design, and know it could be more professional looking, but here’s what I came up with. I changed the title, “Journeying Within: A Road Trip Through America’s Heartland and Mind” because it was too long, and I’m less loving the word journey lately.
Tell me what you think. I’m open to suggestions.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 