By Tab Moura
I’m taking it all in. I’m laying on the floor in my living room, boxes to my right, bong to my left… I just need a minute. I have been in the middle of a huge transition for the last 2 months: two months of repairs, boxes, and making every corner of our old house shine for realtors and prospective buyers. Then 2 weeks in a camper, and what an adventure that was.
Now I’m here, I’m just sitting here. Making smoke donuts.
Have you ever felt so plowed over by life that even the good things feel a bit like taking too big of a hit from your favorite bong? I’m there. Sitting on the floor of my own personal farmhouse, just completely exhausted. Moving houses has its challenges, naturally, but we just majorly changed our family culture AND our housing. Moving with older kids is significantly different than when they were babies. Now they have questions.
They test limits, as they always have, but testing limits on .33 acres in the city is a far cry from testing limits out here in the wild. I have used the word “penis” more often than ever before, because we are cattle farmers and my daughters are learning to identify bulls. My oldest daughter went from having never touched an insect before, in her life, to collecting caterpillars and letting them crawl all over her arms. On the farm, kids get in trouble for leaving the porch without boots on— Guys, I killed a 3.5 ft Water Moccasin.
It’s been a very full few weeks, packed with a million questions a day (just ball parking it,) and plenty of late nights hitting the pillow, knowing I would be up with the sun to do it again.
I say, “This is the beginning.”
“Of what?” My husband asks childishly, already knowing what I am gonna say…
“This is the beginning of whatever we want.”
