There’s no telling how many hours I spent standing over the little Rugg’ Egg’ Ranch incubator that took up a large portion of the wall-side end of my bar that normally holds all of the school worksheets and drawings that J refuses to let me throw away. Twenty days of looking at eggs before one showed some life. This motion sparked a 2.5 day binge of egg-hatching-watching.
From the moment movement happened, our entire family was amazed and I had determined what their personalities were before they even exited the egg based on how they fought to escape their entrapment.
- Rocky was the first to arrive. His egg started moving at 7:53 AM and then continued moving until he arrived just before midnight. Balboa type fighter.
- Stu needed some help. He showed some life, then stopped moving for an entire day. I assumed he was dead. Not dead, but definitely showed questionable decision making upon arrival.
- Tre (renamed to Boots) was the tiniest egg and the cutest gray teeny chick. He is now the favorite of all and has a security detail more extensive than Taylor Swift’s because of his cuteness.
- Jahu (named by my father) was unintentionally murdered by…me. Yes, Hads is still giving me death stares over this one.
- Big Bird: Liked to sleep standing up with his head on the ceiling shelf of the Rugg’ Egg’ Ranch.
- No Name: Don’t remember all the details about his arrival because Big Bird stole the attention with his strange napping behavior.
- Forky: She/he (hopefully she), and the two previously mentioned chicks were sneaky little suckers and were our trio-surprise upon returning home from church.
- Space: black as space according to Malachi.
- Porky. The caboose of the fun came while we were all sleeping so no one was able to witness his birth.
As I stood over this incubator for days, I was obviously amazed by the chicken-hatching, but I also learned that my fascination of observing behavior apparently extends beyond humans. I should have realized this the day I watched a troupe of red ants for far longer than would have been deemed appropriate.
For years I’ve paid close attention to my kiddos. Not in terms of protection (although I am kind of a psycho-hoverer when we leave our small hometown), but just observing what they do. Trying to freeze the moments in my mind and remember each one. Thankfully photography popped back into my life when they were still quite young so that the moment-freezing is a bit easier.
Today I was sitting on the front porch with my father-in-law while writing about the unintentionally murdered chicken (me not him – he writes about much more substantial topics). He mentioned Anne Lamott, 70-year old author and writing teacher with dreads. There are few people whose mailing list I sign up for with this level of excitement.
“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” ― Anaïs Nin
Sometimes life sucks; sometimes life’s beautiful. Regardless, I appreciate tasting it twice. There are journals upon journals in my home that I hope will one day shed light to my children of the joy and the frustration and the love and the chaos and the goodness they brought to my life. There are photos that hang on my walls or fill my cool antique chests that grandpa Gene gave me that tell stories upon stories of our life. The one of Malachi playing the drums in our music room in that beautiful blue two story home that shouted pregnancy and babies and diapers and sleepless night. And yes, I will forever do photography sessions for one of my sweet families who pays me in journals! It’s one of my favorite parts of life.
The photos, the journals… life in retrospect.
But it’s not all cupcakes and rainbows. There is a journal I refuse to crack open because of the brokenness that litters the pages. However, it remains in the collection. It is a reminder of God’s goodness and restoration. There are family photos I keep, but refuse to print because I don’t want a constant reminder of the emotions that took place before the session.
Taste life twice. It’s not always pretty, but it’s a reminder of humanity.
We live in a distracted world, but there is SO much beauty in paying attention on purpose in the present. Thinking about life. Becoming aware of senses. Emotions. Gratitude. “The closer you pay attention, the better you can alchemize thoughts into words on the page.” Anne Lamott.
Bye friends. 🙂