Leah Farmer

Personal perspectives on faith, literature, and life.

In the Land of Eggshells

I am the Princess of the Land of Eggshells.

I have been walking on them…carefully, daintily, fearfully…for many many years. I know how to navigate their delicate nature without the creation of nary a crack. And I can do it all with very very quiet breath…so as not to disturb the other inhabitants of this land.

I learned this cunning art as a child in the home of the Queen and her minions. The ability to walk the eggshells and not make a sound was valuable for all endeavors into and out of the house, as well as just average days where the Queen was livid and silent at someone about something. On days when the Queen didn’t leave her room, the eggshells seemed ever so much more fragile so I walked ever so much more carefully.

Was it hard to be a Princess with a lot of ideas, questions, dreams, and thoughts in the Land of Eggshells? Oh yes. However, as the Princess, I had no idea I was learning to maneuver all precarious emotional situations with humans on the very tips of my tippy toes. My calves were strong but my heart was not.

Long ago I left the Land of Eggshells for new territories, adventures, and scenery. I have ventured back a time or twelve to see the Queen. And along the way I have discovered other Eggshell kingdoms and sister cities and have quickly discovered my ways out of them. A time or two I have even started to set up a new monarchy of my own that included Eggshell walking paths around the kingdom. But ultimately I realize the error of my ways and make haste to either move on or repave the kingdom.

Recently I floated down a familial tributary to a Village of Eggshells. It made me angry. It made me mutinous. It made me feel helpless. The small monarch of this land made me feel captive and I stood paralyzed trying to map out my escape.

What I discovered as I made my plan was that perhaps sometimes the royalty in the Land want out as much as I do for when I said “I am leaving now” the little Princess put on her royal slippers and came along for the ride. And we drove our way out of the Eggshell Village and onto the open road. The wheels of the chariot crushing the shells into fine dust on our way out and the wind in our hair reminding us that we are wild, free, and LOUD.

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1 Comment

  1. Sheila Edwards

    I ,also, learned from an early age how to maneuver the eggshell labyrinth. It took a very long time to realize there was an exit. When I opened the door, I was amazed at the beauty beyond the eggshell castle.
    Be free! Don’t be afraid to stomp on the eggshells! They compost, and help with growth, better when ground to a fine dust.
    Oh, as usual, fabulous writing!

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