10 minute read)
Who wants to hear complaining? Worse yet, who wants to hear whining? Nobody. So why would I leave my last blog post with a teaser of “tune in to the next post to read about the not-so-rosy picture of coming home?” Why? The truth is that I felt a tinge of guilt for gushing on and on about my amazing month-long vacation to Lake Tahoe and the licking love fest I was met with by our dogs on my homecoming. It was a big deal for me to leave the herd for that long, and returning was not easy.
So often on social media we see people at their most perfect times. Vacations, celebrations, and those nominations where people “post one day without explanation for ten days” of their favorite place, child, or pet. I am not saying I do not love scrolling through my friends’ happy places and proud moments. I actually love a good vacation photo dump. If I cannot travel to Greece myself, then seeing 25 pictures of picturesque blue waters, steep white hillside staircases, and delicious looking Mediterranean cuisine is fun for me. This summer I got to virtually travel all over the world (Greece, Italy, Ireland, London, Vegas). How awesome it is that we can share with one another the wonders of this beautiful planet on our phones.
But then there is the part of the social net surfing that can leave a person a little less than thrilled. Sometimes you feel FOMO (the fear of missing out) when coming across pictures of gatherings you missed (or did not get invited to). Or perhaps the perfectness of people’s pleasantly perky posted pictures pops your confidence balloon. During the months of COVID isolation I remember seeing pictures of impressive crafts people took up (macrame, mosaics, sculptures, labyrinths), or multiple languages they were learning. Even the 10,000 piece puzzles they solved left my jaw hanging open. I was slumped on the sofa binge-watching the Gilmore Girls and Bridgerton. Scrolling through these productive “make use of this down time” posts made me feel like even more of a sloth. But then something also started to happen out in the picture perfect posting world. People began sharing the real stuff. The tough things. The sad things. The honest heartfelt posts.
What we love about our favorite characters in books and in movies is that they have problems too. I am turned off by a character that has everything going right in her life. It just is not true. We all have our strengths and weaknesses and our good and bad days. Whether the protagonist is working at a top fashion magazine in New York or is a mother of three daughters living on beautiful prairie, they are both met with challenges. That is what makes a compelling story arc. What would be interesting about a perfect person in a perfect world? Not much in my opinion. I believe it is in our more vulnerable states that we find common ground with others.
I let out a long sigh when I sat down to write my tales of returning home to the dense steamy humidity, the concerning goat poops clumped like pine cones instead of the healthy nanny berries they should be, a fattened up horse who the Ferrier warned me could founder if I didn’t get his weight under control, two bored lonely cats that found mischief in the house, and a missing chicken (my fault from jet lag and miscounting at the nightly coop closing). Another long sigh. I even approached the writing with a reference to the days of returning home from short trips leaving our teenagers supervising themselves. It was not a pretty picture. Getaways are exactly that: getting away. So returning from being away is not always easy, especially the longer you were gone and what you did while away and who was watching your kids. The same hard stuff took place before you left but for some reason your respite weakens your response after your return. Pine cone shaped poops from the goats? Argh! You have a book report due tomorrow and you need poster supplies from the store and you tell me this at 8:00 at night? Argh! Take me back to the sandy beach by the lake!
I started writing about the “not-so-rosy” picture of returning home: the pine cone poops, the chunky horse, the heavy water bucket spills, the lost chicken reduced to a pile of black feathers, the farmer and his wife arguing, the zero turn mower battery dying, and the pasture gate left open. Stuff happens. Perhaps, that is what I want to always make sure I communicate to my readers. There is good stuff and bad stuff. With me, you will get both.
I kept putting my writing pad down and asking myself how I could complain about anything after such a great summer. So many people have far worse struggles. As the week unfolded something tragic happened in my younger sister’s community. She and her family live on the island of Maui. I spoke with her the day before the fires. Her two children had just started the first day of school and she had taken a swim in the calm ocean water just outside of Lahaina. She sounded great, like a mom does at the end of a summer and at the fresh start of a new school year. Twenty-four hours later their island was hit with catastrophic fires. Fortunately for my sister, her family and neighbors live on the other side of the island. They were safe but devastated. Heartbroken.
I wrestled with simply tossing out this writing piece even though I’d left a teaser on my last post. I mean, my barn chore whining is so trivial. What is going on for all of those people in Hawaii is what needs writing about. They need our prayers and support. It will take a long time to get through this tragedy and rebuild. My sister is a positive thinker and believes in the united spirit of the people of Maui. It is the aloha culture. Please help if you can. Mahalo.
Listed below is a foundation that she recommended:
https://www.hawaiicommunityfoundation.org/maui
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