The last 4 months have flown and dragged. Some days have felt like a rush of energy, and others as though I’m steeped in sludge. A trail is still my greatest refuge, and finally last week I baked a loaf of sourdough.
Why is it I so quickly set aside the things my soul craves? The small bodies that wind around mine or voices that scream over toys or the fatigue that hits me like a brick wall by dinner time could all be a reason, sure.
But if I do not tend to the artist in myself, the longing for beauty or meaning or shifting definitions of who I am in the whispers of trees, I notice the bewilderment returning. A sense of needing a compass, and not knowing where to find one.
In my mind I am on my knees, searching the leaves, the sky, for anything that can bear my weight for a change so I can release the rest.
A pair of Cardinals visits our feeder at dawn and dusk and I find myself craving their soft chirps. They are bookends to the lately tumultuous meltdowns of my children. (And sometimes, let’s be honest, me.)
March brought a month of construction on our home and a stay with my parents. Thankfully living with them comes easily for me, and they filled our days with laughter, food on the table, and dancing to songs about trucks.
April was full of settling back in, a household stomach virus, and then colds. I turned 36 somewhere in the muddle of it all, in the changing sheets and administering Pedialyte and visiting the Pediatrician. Again. It was also full of Bluey, lifeline text threads with friends, and signs of spring filling the weary places.
May was the first month it felt like normalcy resumed in our lives as far as routines, and with it came overwhelm. Being a stay at home, homeschooling parent, even if by choice, is a constant job. One that I love, and one that can be exhausting on every level. As we get to know our neurodivergent family, and selves later in life, things seem to shift every day. Through it all I decide to seek the constancy I can at least gift myself in a return to basics: better sleep habits, movement, and eating that helps my body feel good. And you know what? It really helps. What also helps? Therapy. My first session since February was desperately needed.
June has arrived, and with it the first sweaty childhood hairlines under baseball caps, melting popsicles, and splash pad trips. I notice the early spring flowers losing their luster as the heat of summer nudges in, but those that thrive in it grow taller. I feel as though I can grow taller, too, if I can only give freely to myself the way I do others. Later this month I am meeting with a psycho-therapist to see if medicine will help me with my anxiety, tendency to lose and forget things, or lingering sense of I just can’t do all of this on my own.
There have been so many good things, so many hard things, all once.
As I write this my son sits next to me, peppering me with questions. I love him and yet feel frazzled as a thought gets started and I lose it again. That’s how it’s felt so often in the multiple times I’ve sat down to write this newsletter. I am a bunch of loose threads looking for the one strong enough to gather up the pieces, something I can hold on to, something I can pull myself up with.
It feels good to be back. Thank you, if you happen to read this, for being here after all this time.
life with littles
Zoos, parks, beaches, picnics.
Sand in our shoes, wet clothes, sunscreen tantrums, dirt under fingernails.
Trail meanderings with reminders of what poison ivy looks like and cries of “don’t eat that!”, and meltdowns over long lost acorns.
Creating memories as the leaves burst open and the birdsong soars and my children grow up, at once so slowly and in a rush that makes me want to cry, “Wait! Wait for me.”
soul-tending
A big reason I have been quieter here has been a pursuit of something for myself that I am still generally keeping quiet. It is a course that will turn into something more (I hope) and when I get somewhere official with it in the next month or two, I will share. For now, I am keeping it close, as though holding my breath, caring for the seed and waiting for the roots to take hold.
reading/listening/learning
I’ve been listening to several audiobooks:



The Sunbearer Trials, written by Aiden Thomas and narrated by Andre Santana.
Phaedra, written by Laura Shepperson, narrated by Jade Wheeler, Mary Helen Galluci, Julia Atwood, Mark Owen, Erin DeWard, Leon Nixon, and Nicky Endres
Book Lovers, written by Emily Henry, narrated by Julia Whelan.
What have you been listening to or reading?
Readers, it’s good to be back. None of this was edited really and written mostly off the cuff this morning. I needed to get back to this space, and I did it.
Thank you for being here.
Warmly,
Jess
Just beautiful.
I'm glad you're back! I always enjoy your newsletter.