📬 Letters from the Quiet Life | Issue 4 — What We Couldn’t Keep

For the Chick I Couldn’t Save — and the Grace of Small Losses

For the Chick I Couldn’t Save

You were warm in my hands,
softer than breath.
I did what I could.
That’s all I can write.

Sometimes, life gives you
a sunrise and a loss
in the same hour.

Homesteading is full of firsts no one prepares you for: the first frost, the first bloom, the first death in your hands. I remember this chick clearly. She was fragile from the beginning—wobbly, unsure, slower than the others. I did everything I could. Sometimes, it’s not enough.

There are no neat endings in this life. Just the way the coop door creaks closed, the bucket gets rinsed, the day goes on.

I don’t think healing always comes from trying to explain the loss. Sometimes, it comes from naming it. Giving it space. A few lines on a page. A gentle nod in a letter.

If you’re carrying a small grief of your own—something quiet but heavy—you’re not alone.

🐥 Care Tip for New Chicks:
Even the best brooder setup can’t save a chick that wasn’t meant to thrive—but warmth, clean water, and gentle handling can tip the scales. Add a teaspoon of raw honey to their water in moments of stress—it’s simple, natural, and helps more than you'd think.

🍂 Tea for Grief that Lingers:
– 1 tsp lemon balm
– ½ tsp oatstraw
– A few rose petals or a tiny pinch of lavender
Steep gently, and sip slowly.

🖊️ Journal Prompt:
What loss—big or small—are you still holding in your hands?

Until next time—may your mornings be gentle, and your heart held softly.
With tenderness,
Ellen 🌾