Turns out you can love where you are and still miss somewhere else.
There are days I wish life would slow down just a little.
Not forever. Not in a big, dramatic way. Heaven forbid that the long fencing days last longer than they already do (although, I don’t mind fencing that much). I just need things to slow down enough to catch my breath and feel like I’m not missing something somewhere else.
Because lately, life hasn’t slowed down at all.
It’s been full in all the best ways—coaching, kids’ activities, opportunities to serve, even a little travel with my husband. The kind of full that I love and am truly grateful for.
But while I am away somewhere else, I still feel the pull of the ranch.
I’ve learned a hard, unrelenting truth—life on a ranch doesn’t wait. I know, it’s a mind-blowing concept. Who knew my world didn’t actually revolve around me? Actually it’s not a new concept at all. These feelings were similar when instead of chasing my kids between games, clubs and meetings, I was chasing them between naps and snacks.
But somehow I have to learn again that cows don’t pause because there’s a basketball game. The weather doesn’t hold off because I’m out of town. Work keeps moving, whether I’m there for it or not.
And I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t get to me sometimes.
Some days I want to shout that it’s unfair and cruel that I have to choose between being here or there when I want to be both. Other days, it’s quieter than that. There’s a kind of anxiety in knowing things are happening at home without me—not because I don’t trust the people there or think the work won’t get done, but because the opposite is true. The work goes on without me. It doesn’t miss me. It doesn’t need me. And somehow, that’s the part that stings a little.
Because I want to be part of it. I want to show up. I want to carry part of the weight.
But if I spend every day waiting for the ranch to need me, I miss the chance to say yes to other parts of my life—the parts where I get to coach, support my kids, and learn, serve, and chase passions outside of a set of corrals.
So I’ve been learning something I didn’t expect.
There isn’t a version of life where I get to be everywhere I want to be, all at once. Some days I choose the ranch, and some days I choose to be somewhere else. And neither choice makes me less committed to the other—or at least, I hope it doesn’t.
It just means I’m living a life that doesn’t fit neatly into one place. I know the ranch will still be there when I get back, with work that still needs done. The cattle will still need to be gathered and water checked. The seasons will keep turning.
Life doesn’t wait. But maybe it was never meant to. Maybe it was meant to be lived in the middle of all of it—the going, the missing, the showing up, and the coming back again.
Riding for the brand,
– Allison
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