42

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 42.

Ed’s 91-year-old grandfather sent me a card that says: “How would you spend the perfect day?”

Here’s how I would spend it:

I’d wake up to see my children and Ed and have them sing Happy Birthday to me.

I’d make coffee and drink it by the fire.

I’d go outside and pause for just a moment, deliberately breathing in the cold, refreshing air, enjoying the feeling of the sun touching my skin. I’d go to the greenhouse and pick some salad greens for lunch. I’d go to the cows, clean their stalls, and hang out with them for a while. I’d sit near them in the hay, and watch them chew their cud. I’d allow myself the luxury of just sitting there, listening to their chewing noises, hearing their breath, looking out over the fields, feeling content.

I’d come back to the house to make chees and yoghurt. I’d clean the kitchen only to a “good enough” standard.

My sister would bring me freesias, my favorite cut flowers, the only cut flowers I get, and only on my birthday. We’d visit for a little bit.

I’d have some time alone, and I’d sit by the fire, in my favorite armchair with the sheepskins on it; I’d light the beeswax candle my sister made, and the candle Aiyana re-gifted to me. I’d sit and feel grateful for all the good things in my life, and for the hard things, and for how they mesh together. I’d enjoy being here another day to experience it all.
I’d read “Keeping a Family Cow”. I’d reread some favorite quotes.
I'd talk to my parents.

That would be, and was, my perfect day.

peace