To be neccesary. To know that a kind, gentle animal got sustenance because of me. To have people counting on me to close the chicken coop doors after the last ray of setting sun so predators don’t get them overnight. To feel the dignity of belonging. Of having a small role in the bigger picture of our earth’s increasing struggle to survive and keep us all alive somehow. Of perhaps, for one brief moment, knowing I did my part, for today.

No. They are not chores.

They are not chores.