Saturday Steps and the Secret at the Bakery

The house on Sycamore Street is finally quiet, or as quiet as it ever gets with Biscuit snoozing loudly on the rug and Mark out in the driveway cleaning the truck. It is just before 5:00 PM, and the light is hitting that golden, honey-colored slant through the kitchen window. I have my robin-egg-blue journal open next to me, but I wanted to talk to you all first. How was your Saturday, friends? Mine started early, even before the sun had fully climbed over the neighbors' roofs.

I was out the door by 7:30 AM for my long run of the week. I am officially up to four miles now for my Cedar Falls Harvest 5K training. Four miles! If you had told me a year ago that I’d be lacing up my sneakers on a Saturday morning by choice, I would have laughed until my sides ached. But as I ran past Joanne’s place—she was already out in her pink bathrobe, clip-clipping away at her petunias—I felt a sense of ownership over my own body that I haven't felt in a long time. It isn't just about the calories or the distance; it’s about proving to myself that I can do the hard things when nobody is watching.

After my run, I dropped Emma and Noah off with Mark. He’s been working such long days at the construction sites lately, gone by 5:30 AM most mornings, so he loves these Saturday blocks where he can just be 'Dad.' I treated myself to a visit to Sweet Magnolia. Megan was horizontal behind the counter, icing a batch of lemon scones when I walked in. We didn't do our usual pickleball match today because her knees were bothering her, so we just sat in the back of the bakery with two cold waters and talked. There’s something about the smell of rising dough and sugar that makes it so much easier to be honest.

I told her about the candle orders for 'Lucy's Little Light.' I actually had three new orders on Etsy this morning. It’s small, I know, but that money is going straight into my personal savings—my 'freedom fund' as I like to call it. It’s not that Mark and I don’t share everything, but there is a specific kind of self-worth that comes from knowing you earned the money for your own new running shoes or a fancy dinner for your husband. It’s about being a partner, not just a dependent. We talked a lot about that today—the delicate balance of being a wife and a mother while holding onto the woman who exists beneath all those labels.

Speaking of being a wife, Megan and I got to talking about my upcoming anniversary. Nine years. It’s incredible how fast and slow the time goes all at once. I told her I was feeling a bit nervous about it. Sometimes, when life gets bogged down in the tallying of bills at Miller’s Hardware or the endless dinosaur trivia with Noah, you forget how to feel like a woman who is desired, rather than just a woman who is needed. Megan reminded me that the spark isn't something you find under a rock; it’s something you tend to, like a candle wick that needs trimming.

I stopped by the salon above the bakery on my way out to see if Dani had any openings for a quick trim next week. I want to look my best when Mark and I go out for our anniversary dinner. I think it’s important to invest in ourselves, ladies. Not for the world, but for the reflection we see in the mirror. When I feel strong and put-together, I am a better mother to Emma, who is currently obsessively drawing horses on the back of my old grocery lists, and I am a more present wife to Mark.

The kids are in the backyard now. Noah is 'stealthing' through the tall grass in his velociraptor pajamas (yes, even in the afternoon heat), and Emma is trying to teach Biscuit how to jump over a broomstick like a show pony. It’s chaotic and loud, and there are probably finger paints drying on the dining room table that I’ll have to scrub off later. But my heart feels very full. I reached my mileage goal, I supported a friend, and I’m growing my little business one jar of wax at a time.

As we head into the evening, Mark is planning to fire up the grill, and I’m going to spend a few minutes finishing my entry in my journal before I start the bedtime routine. Growth isn't always a massive explosion; sometimes it’s just the steady, quiet rhythm of a Saturday well-spent. It’s knowing that you are worth the effort you put into yourself. I hope you found a moment to feel that today, too. Whether it was a walk, a quiet cup of tea, or finally balancing that checkbook, know that you are doing enough.

I’m going to go help Emma with her 'horse' now before Biscuit decides the broomstick is actually a chew toy. Thank you for being here with me, for listening to the mundane and the meaningful. We are all pieces of a larger picture, and I’m so glad you’re part of mine.

I love you. — Lucy