I slept a deep and dreamless sleep at the farm. I went to sleep with the sounds of owls and the occasional night bird. I awoke to the sun striking the the tippy top of the far ridge, the glorious choir of songbirds echoing down the holler from the woods above. What little bit of spring rain we’ve had trickled quietly in the creek outside the bedroom window I had propped open with an old bottle. My breathing was steady…my heartbeat was slow. I was feeling quite zen in the moment.

I stretched and yawned and gazed out the window, then I received an alert on my phone. My brother/friend Greg was texting from Costa Rica.

“Hey…wish me happy birthday, sis!”

OMGosh! Why wasn’t his birthday on my calendar? I’m challenged in this area. I sat up, pulled the covers up around my chin, brushed my hair back, and hit the little camera icon. I have never tried a video chat on Instagram before, but there is a first time for everything, right? After three rings, there he was. My curly-haired buddy with the sparkling blue eyes…retired attorney, world traveler, born in the same hospital as me and delivered by the same doctor. We grew up right across the Ohio River from each other but didn’t meet until 2002 at a board meeting in New Castle, Colorado. Go figure.

His gap-toothed smile is charming, his innocent youthfulness belies his age. Greg is truthfully the little brother I never had. I adore my older brother. I didn’t get to do the things with him some sisters do. He didn’t play football and look out for his little sister. He didn’t reluctantly drive me to school or protect me from boys he didn’t approve of. My older brother was born with a developmental disability and cerebral palsy. I would never trade him for anything in the world. I was HIS protector, so God sent me Greg to do the other stuff.

When Mr. Virgo died and I returned from my three month excursion in the wilderness and backroads of Colorado, I couldn’t sleep in my house. I didn’t want to sleep in my bed…our bed. So I kept Little TOW-Wanda out front, plugged in, and essentially lived out there till I finally had to park her in storage for the winter. Greg and I were both night owls. If he saw me online at some ungodly hour, he sent me a text to see if I was ok. I can’t tell you how many times he walked the six or seven blocks from his house to mine at 2:00 in the morning to just sit with me in my camper. 

We propped pillows up at each end of my bed, he at one end…me at the other. It was getting chilly so we threw a quilt over our legs. Sometimes we listened to music. Sometimes we shared pictures on our phones. Sometimes I cried and he sat quietly and listened. He’s a good brother…as much a brother as any. And I got to start my soft, zen-like day singing happy birthday to him and catch up with each other’s lives. It was delightful.

When we finally said goodbye, I padded into the kitchen to make my coffee, threw in another load of laundry, and sat in Grandma’s chair to watch the world play out in front of me. I took a deep breath. No television. No news. No “press conferences”. No updates. I could just as easily have been sitting in a cabin in the woods in 1886 as remote and distant the world felt. This is what I was talking about a couple of weeks ago when I posted on my personal FB page… “Should married couples socially distance from each other? (Asking for a friend.)” I was trying to be funny…sort of. 

I love Mr. FixIt completely. AND…I know myself. I need a break away from time to time to recharge and catch my breath. I need to NOT hear a television for, at the very least…24 hours. I am a much happier person when I get these little breaks…and when I’m happier, Mr. FixIt can’t help but be happier, too. It doesn’t take long and we can’t stand being apart. But oh…that twenty-four hours is delicious.

I finished my laundry and gathered some things up from the kitchen that I wanted to take home. The pots and pans I left at the farm are much nicer than the ones over at the house, so I gathered the good pans up to bring home with me. The next time we go back over, I’ll take the older pans from here and leave them at the farm. No one comes there but us, and we will do fine with them. I also brought my blender and my handheld KitchenAid mixer. Some knives and my wonderful crock with my spatulas and wooden spoons. And the red teakettle I bought a few years ago when I came back to the farm full time.

By the time I got the car packed up, it was nearly 3:00 in the afternoon. I drove home and mowed the back yard for Mr. FixIt. It was warm and sunny. When I was done, I stretched out on the bed in front of the fan for a power nap. We had supper and sat out on the deck under our new pergola and played with the cat. 

For twenty-four hours, coronavirus was far away. Scary things were far away. Death and dying and illness were far away. I had the mental health break I needed and came back feeling stronger and more centered and rested. It’s important to take care of our mental health…always, but especially now. 

What are you doing to help with your mental health? What are your self care rituals?

❤️

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

John 14:27 ESV