Things didn't work out this fall like I had planned. Seems when talking about the farm they never do.
The turkeys didn't grow as well as planned. Growth was stunted by illness that went undetected.
The barn where the cattle stayed last year, may be sold, but he isnt' sure, and isn't sure if I'd be evicted if it was. Plus the power bill was more money than he thought and I'd have to spend double to triple what I did last winter to keep them there. So they can't stay. I have to send them to my mom's farm. Which means the horse has to go too. Which means my heart will break and I'll cry when the trailer rattles out of my driveway and I hear his thumping hooves and feel his nervous panicked energy (he doesn't travel well). I know where he's going, I'll know he's coming back, but he doesn't. I'll miss him. I'll miss all of them.
The pastures will be empty...
It panics me a bit, you know. To not have everything work out just right. I plan and plan and plan some more. Then something completely different happens anyway. My rational mind knows it's not a big deal. That any way that it works out is the right way, but another part of me disagrees. It stresses and hurries to right it, when there is nothing to right. When it can't be. When all that is required is patience and trying again next year. I worry that the animals aren't happy, that their feet are too wet, that they're too much of a burden on my husband, that I should be able to take care of things all by myself. What if I can't? That I'm doing this farming thing wrong.
Then a 35 year old lady dies suddenly after finally conceiving a child, and a seven year old girl sees through the door to the next life and teases us with the answer to all our questions. The answers we realize we forgot we had when we were seven. But it's too late, so we sit grieving and mesmerized by our kids and all that we forgot we knew.
I sit at the office working and pretending to be working and trying to make a difference of some kind. Although I have no idea in what way that could be. I'm busy but I don't know with what. I'm on the road and away working. Running. Convincing myself that what I do is important. Others are at home baking cookies and making jelly and harvesting the gardens and raising their children. Because you only get one chance to raise your kids. I panic again and worry that I'm doing this family thing all wrong.
Some days feel like I'm picked up by my ankles and all the change is shook loose from my pockets. Before I can collect it, I look at it lying on the ground and wonder if any of it matters. The small things that I give such weight. When there are so many bigger things.
I want to go home and hug my kids and pat my horse and smell the earth and give my soul to my husband and show him I still cherish his. Leaving all the rest on the ground. Never picking it up again.
But I can't. None of us can.
6 comments:
Aw, jeesh. Why'd you have to go and write a beautiful, heart-wrenching post TODAY?
The spring will come. It always does. It is a miracle every time.
Oh Misty. This post hurts my heart. Is there ever a way to feel like we're doing everything? I don't think so. I'm home all day every day and I still feel like I'm shortchanging my kids because I'm so goddamn tired all the time.
As for the animals leaving for the winter, I know how much that sucks. Especially Bud. I wish I had a magic money tree that could help you build your own barn.
oh Misty, yes, yes, yes....I know the anxiety that uncertainty creates. In all of us, even though circumstances differ.
We all want to get it right....but know that we'll likely only find out "after-the-fact" if we made the right choices.
When I stress...(which is often)....I usually hear my Mother's voice saying "You made the best decision with the information available at THAT time".
And when that voice doesn't calm things down (which is often)...I remind myself that we are all works in progress....and can continue to notice (and improve) on all aspects of our lives.
That usually helps....when all else fails, there is wine...and the witty words of dear friends.
xo, looking forward to seeing you this weekend!
Well damn, damn. Sigh. All you can do with slumps like that is eat well, and drink water, and go to bed early a few nights. Rest. Pretty much just what your mom and Anne told you. Tomorrow is a brand new day, fresh with no mistakes in it. xo
I was trying to back out of coming this weekend because I was heartsore and scared and feeling all these things too...the why's and the how's, until it was pointed out to me that we're ALL feeling this, this question of enough.
If we stop asking if it is, does that mean that finally we've found the right answer, or that we've stopped caring?
Hugs your boys, bring the horse some apples, and give yourself a break darlin.
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