Anyone posting political opinions or memes is getting a 30-day snooze on Facebook. I’m over it. The reactionary scroll-read-react routine doesn’t work for me anymore. So I’m stamping out little fires, one by one. I’m reclaiming my peace, guarding it like I’m posted up in my own fire tower. It’s not okay to be so sensitized, reactive, helpless, or to trick myself into believing that sharing a meme equals real change.
So peace, I’m out.
Rising to the top instead? Star Trek memes, Labyrinth references, Georgia Backyard Gardening, and local events worth a “maybe we’ll go.” These little joys — the ones that bring belonging and curiosity — are my new non-negotiables.
The calendar ticks closer to my parents’ arrival in 18 days. My favorite. From wake-to-sleep time together, spontaneous ice cream at the peach packing plant, porch bird-listening, them combing Evelyn’s hair, or tossing a ball in the yard — all those little things add up to the kind of togetherness I live for.
But leading up to their visit? Clean, organize, and clean some more. I get a tad neurotic. Okay fine, off-the-charts neurotic. The fridge will be stocked, homemade bread, cinnamon rolls, and pie made. Fresh fruit out, sheets laundered, baseboards wiped — and a zillion details only my obsessive eye will ever notice.
Confession time: I hold grudges. There, I said it. My first thought: I shouldn’t. My rebuttal: but I do. Are grudges like hate — poisonous if you hold onto them? Probably. But I’m stubborn. Ugh, that’s not true. I do care. So here I am: I don’t want to let go, but I do…
Side note: I love having a partner (that’s Dave) who folds laundry while I sprawl on the couch. No, he’s not my servant. I’d do the same for him. Just… not tonight.
What would it look like to let this grudge go? It would feel like peace. Like space returning. And honestly — I’m too grown to keep falling into high school clique-style drama.
So I’m over it. Onward to whatever’s next. Infinity and beyond? Sure, why not.
Later!
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 