You know that sooooo-eeeeee call pig farmers make, with its high-pitched, trailing, echoey ending? Take that and replace it with “Hey, chicky babies!”—and that’s the cluck-gathering song my neighbor-slash-sister-in-law, Maria, performs daily. It’s sweet and always brings a smile to my face when I’m out roaming the yard. Not to mention, I’m egg-rich because of it—50-plus eggs stacked in my fridge, freely given, not a cent spent. Call it the lap of luxury.
This morning, I ambled across the field to where the chickens live and was encouraged to book our stay at Disney. You heard that right—all three houses on this side of Lowe Road are heading to Mickey Mouse land mid-summer. Well, except for Dan. He’ll stay back and hold down the fort, watching our collective pack of dogs: Archie, Luna, Cora, and Lucy.
Deadlines loom, as they always do. Progress notes usually sit in a tolerable queue, but today, they feel unbearable. That’s why my laptop is out here with me, warming my lap as I shift my chair three feet to the right—then again a minute later, and again—because of the wind’s constant shift. Nearby, Dave’s wearing red work gloves, breaking apart downed branches, keeping a minor brush fire nice and stoked.
I’ve eaten half an edible. I recognize its impact—subtle but present. Having overdone them in the past—feeling completely out of my mind, paranoid, putting my ear to the earth’s floor to hear her heartbeat (just kidding, I didn’t do that)—I make sure to tell Dave when I take one, and I only ever take a half.
Substances and accountability go hand in hand. The responsibilities in my life—to show up for my passions and goals—are priority uno. Learning Spanish. Taking care of my health. Showing up for others. Being present for my daughter. These are all things I want to do. But sometimes, they feel burdensome.
And seeing the people and things I love as burdens feels wrong. Like I’ve absorbed some expectation that I should always want to give myself to everyone and everything, all the time, no matter what.
Which—I don’t.
I’m actually quite good at taking time for myself. Like this morning’s jaunt to Ross Dress for Less and Walmart, where I scored some good-smelling finds: Argan Oil-scented shampoo and conditioner, plus Old Spice Lavender Wilderness deodorant.
Because sometimes, the simplest things—a morning errand, a backyard fire, the cluck of happy hens—bring the biggest relief.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 