Wednesday Wicks and the Wildflowers of the Heart

I am sitting here at the kitchen table with my robin-egg-blue journal open and a very lukewarm cup of tea, listening to the soft thump of Biscuit’s tail against the floorboards. It is just past 5:30pm, and the house feels like it is holding its breath. Mark just walked through the front door, smelling of dust and fresh air, and he’s currently in the backyard helping Emma find a 'proper horse stable' near the oak tree while Noah follows them around in those velociraptor pajamas he refuses to take off lately.

Today was one of those middle-of-the-week days where nothing monumental happens, yet everything feels slightly more significant. Since I don't go into Miller’s Hardware on Wednesdays, I spent my morning focusing on Lucy’s Little Light. I managed to pour twenty-four ‘Lavender & Cedar’ candles—a scent that always reminds me of our little blue house here on Sycamore Street. Watching the wax transition from clear and molten to a solid, milky white is such a grounding metaphor for life, isn't it, ladies? We start out so fluid and uncertain, but with a little time and the right environment, we settle into something strong and fragrant.

I had to step away from the candle wicks around 10:00am because my legs were itching for movement. The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is creeping closer every day, and I am finally starting to feel like a runner rather than someone just pretending to be one. I hit 3.5 miles this morning. It wasn't my fastest, and my lungs felt a bit tight in the Iowa humidity, but I finished. I remember a time, maybe even just last year, when I would have given up at the two-mile mark and told myself I wasn't built for this. But today, I looked at my reflection in Joanne’s front window as I passed, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't look for flaws. I saw strength.

Speaking of Joanne, she was out in her pink bathrobe again this morning, though she’s finally traded the deadheading for some light watering. She waved her spray nozzle at me and shouted, 'Looking lean, Lucy!' which made me blush and nearly trip over a loose sidewalk slab. It’s funny how a small comment from a neighbor can shift your entire self-worth for the afternoon. It reminded me that we are seen, even when we think we’re just blending into the background of a suburban Wednesday.

After my run and a quick shower, I spent some time looking over our household budget. Growth is slow, especially when you’re trying to build a side hustle from your kitchen, but we are making progress. Every candle sold feels like a tiny brick in the wall of our future. I’m not just buying specialized wicks and jars; I’m buying a sense of independence. I want Emma to see her mom building something from scratch. I want her to know that being a mother and a bookkeeper doesn't mean you have to stop being a dreamer.

Megan stopped by lunch with a sourdough loaf that didn't quite meet the Sweet Magnolia 'display standards' but tastes like heaven anyway. We sat on the porch for twenty minutes, just talking about the upcoming Saturday pickleball match. Having a friend who pushes you to be both physically active and emotionally honest is such a gift. She caught me looking at a photo of Mark and me from our third anniversary, and she just nodded. She knows that sometimes, after nine years, you have to work to see the 'young' version of yourself in your partner’s eyes again.

I’ve been thinking a lot about desirability lately—not the flashy kind you see on billboards, but the quiet, sturdy kind. When Mark came home today and gave me that tired, dusty grin, I realized that I feel most beautiful when I am being productive and purposeful. There is a specific kind of glow that comes from knowing you’ve handled the bookkeeping, the kids, the candles, and the miles all before the sun starts to dip. It’s a beauty rooted in capability.

Tomorrow I’ll be back at Miller’s, surrounded by the scent of sawdust and the metallic clink of hardware, helping Mr. Miller organize the new shipment of power tools. But for tonight, the work is done. The Etsy orders are boxed, the 5K training is logged, and the kids are safe. I am learning that I am worth the effort I pour into myself, just as much as the effort I pour into others.

I can hear Mark laughing outside—Noah must have done his 'raptor pounce' again. It’s time for me to close this journal and join them before dinner. Take a moment for yourselves tonight, friends. Whether it’s a long bath or just five minutes of silence, you deserve to inhabit your own life fully. I hope your Wednesday was as kind to you as mine was to me.

I love you. — Lucy