The Magic in a Monday
- Najha
- Jul 22, 2025
- 5 min read
July 21st at Trauma Farms
The morning began before the sun, as it always does. By 4 a.m., the house was still and quiet—just me, my thoughts, and the cards. Yesterday’s tarot drew Mercy, and I carried that word with me like a charm tucked in my pocket. Mercy for myself. Mercy for the slow pace. Mercy for the messes.
The first real chore of the morning is setting up the girls’ schoolwork. I pulled their folders and clipboards from the cubby and began sorting through yesterday’s finished pages, tucking each into the right spot. Then I laid out the new work for the day, piece by piece—finishing their cultural focus on northern cardinals, a couple of “Can You Spot the Difference?” sheets for shapes, and some simple addition and subtraction problems using the number 1 for math. Their early reader work came in the form of a color-and-trace book about seashells, and to finish it all off, a big bubble letter P for them to decorate however their hearts desired. Everything prepped and stacked, ready for their sleepy hands to pick up when they were ready.
Before the house stirred, I turned to my sourdough starter. I gave the jar a good stir, then poured out about 90% into my discard jar, which I keep in the fridge for baking projects. With the jar nearly empty, I set it on the scale and carefully tared it out, switching it to grams. I measured out 100 grams of our bread-and-wheat flour mixture, followed by 100 grams of cold tap water straight from the fridge. A small squeeze of honey for sweetness, then I stirred it all together until it was smooth and alive again. Once well mixed, I tucked the jar back into its little hidey hole on the counter, where it could do its quiet work until morning.
With the starter tucked away, it was time to care for the rest of the morning crew. I began with the turtle, sprinkling a small handful of pellets into his tank and watching for a moment as he lazily came to life. Then came the dogs, one by one in their well-worn order—Harley and Cain first, eager and ready, followed by the rest of the pack, each given their own bowl of food as they trotted in from the damp morning. Alister was last, always a little slower and more deliberate in his steps. By then, Jezebel had caught on that the world was waking up and began making her tiny, impatient demands for breakfast. I warmed her bottle and held her close, feeding her as the house buzzed softly around us with the start of another day.
With the animals all cared for and the house beginning to stir, I turned my attention to breakfast. I cooked up a pan of sausage gravy and reheated the biscuits Charlie had baked the day before—he’s taken on more of the baking lately to help ease the pressure on me since his ostomy surgery last year. I made the girls’ cups and sent Charlie the list of what I’d need prepped for later meals. Then I slipped into my daily chores: moving room to room, gathering laundry, collecting dishes, tidying surfaces, and making sure everything was where it needed to be for the day ahead. Dameion was given his morning assignments—feeding the rest of the animals and hauling up inventory from Mom and Dad’s so I could sort, count, and catalog for the shop. If all goes well, I might even get the farm stand going again. By 9 a.m., it was time to wake the girls, get them dressed, and start the school day.
After breakfast, we eased into the school day. We started with the final part of our northern cardinal focus unit, which the girls especially loved thanks to all the hands-on crafts woven throughout. Their little fingers were busy with glue, feathers, and color while their minds stayed full of curiosity. We were just finishing up our handmade bookmarks when lunch crept in quietly. Dameion headed out for the afternoon dog walk while Charlie made up simple plates of chips and cheese for the girls. Bellies full, they curled up for their afternoon nap—peaceful and warm—giving me space to begin my afternoon round of chores.
During the peaceful hours of nap time, Charlie and Dameion made the trip down to Mom and Dad’s and brought up all of our stock. By the time they were done, the living room was filled with boxes—stacked high and waiting to be sorted, counted, and given purpose. While they worked, I allowed myself a short rest, a rare luxury in the middle of the day. When I woke, it was time to help get dinner started. Charlie had already prepped the graham cracker dough and tucked it into the fridge for its two-day rest. Together, we got the noodles going, filling the kitchen with that familiar, comforting scent of home cooking. Not long after, the girls woke from their nap and settled in for their last bit of schoolwork—30 minutes on ABC Mouse, which truly works wonders for them. Their little voices filled the room again, and the day gently began its descent into evening.
While we were wrapping up the day with the girls, Dameion stayed busy in the back bedroom, focused on the remodel. Today’s goal was getting a fresh coat of paint on the newly rebuilt wall—one step closer to turning that space into the girls’ new room. The scent of paint drifted faintly through the house, a quiet reminder that even on the rainiest days, things are still moving forward. Bit by bit, the room is taking shape—sturdy, clean, and made with love.
Once everything was settled and the girls had their dinner—mac and cheese with chicken nuggets—they curled up in their room with Franklin, who had just gotten home from work, to watch a couple movies before bed. With them tucked in and winding down, we began our evening shutdown. The dogs went out for their final round of walkies, the goats were put up for the night, and Jezebel—who had been fed several times throughout the day—was snuggled and content. At last, our own dinner was finished and served, bringing the day full circle. The house slowly quieted, each task checked off with tired hands and a full heart.
As the end of the day rolled around, Aria had one last special moment—she got to help with Jezebel’s final feeding, a well-earned treat after completing every single page on her clipboard of schoolwork. With the house finally still, we each tucked away into our sleeping spaces, letting the soft hush of night settle over us. Another full day behind us, stitched together with small victories, shared effort, and quiet love.
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