A Small and Worthwhile Thing

The other day someone I know asked me, point-blank, "Are you pregnant?" She is not the only friend, acquaintance, or frenemy to ask in recent months.

I live in a small town. The best small town in America, actually. I love it here. I love that I walk into the post office, the pharmacy, the bank, and get greeted by name. I love being known by my community. But sometimes you can have too much of a good thing. The opposite, darker side of small town living is the ever-hungry rumor mill.

I am caught off guard. I respond, "No. Why do people keep asking me that?"

"You look different. Sort of motherly or maternal or something."

"Uh-huh. I'll take that as a compliment."

On my more self-righteous days, I will rant (to myself, in my head) that the contents of my uterus are none of their business. But the reality is that I'm actually prone to using the concept of pregnancy as a metaphor for self-development, for nurturing and growing creative ideas, hopes, dreams, schemes, and grand life plans. Oh, and did I mention that I am a (out-of-practice) doula with one-day plans to be a home birth midwife?

So, just to be clear:
Things I am NOT pregnant with: a baby.

Things I am pregnant with:
I have this wacky idea that if I put my time and energy and heart into doing the things that I love, then a more satisfying life, a career, and maybe even an income with flow forth. I recently bought this amazing cookbook by Alana Chernila. And although I already knew how to bake bread and make soup stock, this book got me back in the habit of doing so and brought me to an important realization: that to do these things, to take the time to make my own granola, is to proclaim to myself and the world that this is a good and worthwhile thing to do.

So here is the start of my running list of things:
growing food in my garden
feeding kitchen scraps to my chickens
making food by hand
making my own cleaning products
practicing yoga
swimming in rivers
mending clothes
daring to dream