Soul Patch

So I don't grow anything on our little farm, but the farm sustains me.

I could plant some things, but I'm having a hard enough time just keeping the children and animals alive, well fed, happy, strong, learning and entertained. Plants aren't as good because they're silent, and when you eat them you never see them again. Plus then you have to replant.

I think I will learn the joy of gardens eventually, I'm seeing that would be nice to have a little patch of things I can grow. Right now my little garden patch is the three two-leggeds in my house, and the furry and feathery amblers outside. A soul patch.

Our old caretaker, the coughing loud old Poppa next door, decided to take his stuff and get out, and do it quickly like here's something for you, try this new weird quiet. There is suddenly so much space and way too much time that we used to spend thinking, tending and caring about the shuffling man in the baseball corner, eating fruit salad and sleeping in the chair. We had that down.

I read somewhere that somebody said "I wish things would stop changing so I could get used to the change."

My dad said not to worry, that there were plenty of old people heading my way. All my parents, and various friends and husbands. Maybe I'm just having a tiny lull, a small lovely holiday, from the aging business. When it comes raging back at me (or maybe wheezing), I will again roll up my sleeves, put on some gloves, and get down to the business of shuttling people to bathrooms and breakfasts, like the hearty Irish nanny that is in my blood.

I will fortify myself with Nutella on toast, make some tea, and look forward to the future. Hopefully having an entertaining and long time with my old buddies.

And in the meantime, the everyday smaller version of loving and tending these sprouts in my farm mom life. Grows me a good heart.