Well, it’s been about a year since we’ve sort of, kind of, maybe retired. I personally don’t believe in retirement – I read it nowhere in the Bible. I think we just change what we’re doing.
We went from field work, feeding calves, slogging through Quick Books to only moving cows in one fell swoop.
How do I feel about it? Depends on the day, the hour, the minute. Can you tell I’m conflicted?
It came way too fast. I’ve only been here 52 years. I just figured out how to back up the merger without turning the steering wheel the wrong way on the first try for crying out loud. And now I’m done! Think of all the other things I was close to mastering.
Son#2 and family are at the helm. And, if I do say so they are doing one heck of a job. And they are doing it all – just about - without our help. I’m very proud of what they are accomplishing.
Yet, there are days, moments when I wish I was more involved. I see things I could do to help, and I’ve offered help. They have their own crew and it’s working well. And that’s OK – until it isn’t. Some days I’m glad we aren’t involved other days I long to step along side and help. Just give me a minute and I’ll change my mind about how I feel.
I’m grateful we are still moving cows. I love those BEBs (Brown Eyed Bossies). The one thing about that is we get a text randomly to pick up cows or told the morning of that cows need to be moved. It isn’t always convenient when we are in the middle of a project.
Yes, I have projects – Farmer says too many. Myself, never-ending and now I have a warm body to help. But we’ve stopped many an activity to help with the cows and are happy to for the most part – especially Famer if it’s an undesirable project – which most are.
As you can see this is a process. It’s heart wrenching. One minute I’m almost in tears because I am not an integral piece of the farm. I am saddened that Farmer isn’t out on a tractor – something he’s done his whole life. The next minute I can see future plans and projects that never could happen if we were tied to the farm.
But, dang it, it is hard to simply close the door and walk away.
The clanging of the head locks, the mooing of the BEBS, the sound of the mixer wagon, the tractors coming and going all pull on my emotions and remind me of what was, is past and never will be again.
So, this process thing – it’s tricky. One day I can be walking in to the grocery store fighting tears and come out laughing my head off. I sound a little psycho. Maybe the word process has roots in psycho – HA!
For those of you who are receiving the baton – be kind, be grateful, be patient and know the one passing the baton isn’t off kilter – just processing.
For those passing the baton. Let go when it is reached for. Hanging on slows the race. Also, be proud, grateful, and encouraging even though there is pain involved. Having that baton in your hand for many years has worn grooves that will need to heal and fill in – which takes time.
Now, I gotta find Farmer and get that project moving . . .
