A barefoot sundress silhouette glides across the kitchen, handing out peanut butter & jelly sandwiches to hungry little hands. The calendar on the wall says January, but the scene says early Summer. The afternoon rain echoes off the tin roof as the warm air comes through the open windows. The sundress silhouette makes another stride across the kitchen to the laundry room to trade out another load of laundry. The air from the open window in the laundry room feels so good and the smell in the air is reminiscent of the mountain air during an afternoon storm. It's the sweet smell of rain meeting with the smell of fresh laundry. An incredible smell really. Life feels simple at this moment. Life felt right.
But in an instant, a question filled the air. "How do you know when you've made it?"
Is there a particular moment in life that you just realize, this is it? Is that the only time you feel that way? Is everything else in life just moments leading up to that one particular moment and everything else afterward just a drab feeling of daily contentment?
Or is life compiled of several "this is it, I finally made it" moments? I don't really know. I've had several times that I felt complete joy and pure happiness to the point of feeling like everything in the world was just right. Riding through the forest in the mountains after getting caught in the summer rain, after having the boys when I was still paralyzed from the spinal and they were both here, and once again when I was dazed after hitting the ground when I fell over the front of the cotton picker. The world felt so surreal that I could hear the bugs in the grass, the warmth of the sun felt unworldly, and I felt so at peace for a while.
What about you?
-Lady of the Farm
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