Sometimes change hits you hard. Sometimes, just as you're getting comfortable with the changes that you think are on the horizon, life comes and smacks you with all of them... Now. All at once. Some positive. Some promising. Some disapointing. Some heartbreaking. But, despite their divergent emotional roots, life somehow thinks you can handle them simultaneously. All at once. Mixed emotions and sudden change. That was our August 2016. At the end of July, we had the last farm auction, which was the final stage of cleaning out Grandma and Grandpa's collections. While this was a notable capstone of a few years of hard work, it was also marked the bittersweet end of an era. It meant an empty barn and machine shed! That felt promising for future livestock (we're crazy... we know) and for the next steps with Kenji's studio space! But it also meant the end of barn/shed adventures and the endless 'picking' of antiques and treasures. It meant a cleared out yard, open for new plantings and fresh growth. But it also meant the classic cars that were a visual mainstay of my childhood were gone. This change was something we'd been working toward, and yet it ached a bit when it finally came. Then, mid-August, I got an out-of-the-blue phone call from work, notifying me that I would be promoted. Effective tomorrow. The change wasn't significant only for me, but also represented so much change for my entire work family. It's promising, it's a great opportunity. It's all the things you're supposed to feel when you get a new professional opportunity. But it's also a huge shift. More work. More responsibility. More stress. This sudden change was so exciting, and equal parts terrifying. And then, late August, change shook us to our core. A normal Sunday evening turned heartbreaking when our sweet puppy, Chibi Chan, was hit on our country road. In a quick turn of events, she was gone. That fiesty little stink was full of energy and so much love. In her short 10 months of life, she did nothing halfway. Born as the super runt of her litter, that baby wasn't even supposed to survive. But she did, and she burned bright! Dear friends fostered her from 2.5 to 11 lbs. That's when she came to the farm. Topping out at 35 lbs, she was much smaller than the rest of our pack but she pestered the other two dogs with all her might. She played as hard as she could. She loved and snuggled with all her stocky little muscle mass. And then, suddenly, she was gone. Our little sweetpants - the first formal "ours" since we were married - was gone. And our hearts are broken. She was our little love, but she also represented so much more than just a sweet addition to our farm. We got Chibi just a few months after our wedding. She came into our family right as I was starting to settle into my (then) new job. We had just recently sold our previous home and were finally able to fully commit to the family farm. In so many ways, Chibi's arrival was the marker that signaled a fresh start. Just as we were starting to feel comfortable in our new life, it suddenly all feels remarkably different. We know that change will continue to come. Sometimes slow and expected, and sometimes sudden and abrupt. And while, rationally, we know will continue to adjust to the new, it doesn't lessen the heartache for what was.
