A boy named Jack saved my life. I was drowning in depression. I had moved to a ranch in the mountains. Several months earlier I had lost all my savings, my farm, and the income from my job in the mortgage industry. My hope of starting over, a new future was not working as planned. I had escaped to the mountains, I brought out what I thought was the perfect geography by falling in love with a guy who owned a ranch and loved animals as much as I do.

I was in the worst post-traumatic stress syndrome depression I had ever experienced. I felt myself sinking deeper into the quicksand. Each time I reached out, I slid lower. I would sit with my goats floating in numbness and hysteria. It wasn’t pretty.

He had left a depressed economy only to enter a county that was even more depressed. I couldn’t find a job. I watched my hay bales disappear for my horses. Without receiving money and without wanting to ask for help, I began to imagine ways to earn money. One night, I came up with the idea of ​​selling laying hens. Two chickens at $ 15 each equaled a bale of hay. The alfalfa was exceeding $ 28 a bale. Not only were we in the deepest part of the recession, we were also hitting record hay prices. So we started a chicken business.

During the day, feeding and watering my animals and chicks was the only thing that kept me moving. I felt like I was in a thick vat of jelly, barely able to move. I was just doing the moves. Everything was gray. I couldn’t see any color. I kept cleaning and filling water buckets, feeders and throwing hay. It was floating nowhere.

One day the phone rang. I picked up. It was a nice lady on the other end of the line asking about chicken purchases, directions, and the hours we were available at the ranch. We sold chickens by appointment only. I gave him the information and made an appointment for the next morning. And what he told me about Jack. Jack was her little one. He lived with autism. She wanted to bring it. I could tell from her voice that she was worried and worried. I remember her mentioning to him that she had challenges in the malls and maybe something about crisis or close to that effect. I told him not to worry, please bring Jack. I told him I heard that kids with autism are great with animals. I kept telling him please don’t worry, please bring him here.

I hung up the phone. I felt so good. I was finally feeling something. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to meet Jack. I ran to the paddocks and started cleaning the chicken coops, filling them with fresh shavings, cleaning and cleaning. Jack would be here tomorrow. He had something to look forward to.

At 11 am the next morning, a car stopped. I headed towards our door and before I could reach it, a little boy was running towards me shouting excitedly “Janet — I’m Jack”. And I never took a breath after. I remember him carrying a book of dinosaurs. Suddenly we both entered a magical world of dinosaurs and how chickens were dinosaurs. And how they evolved from dinosaurs and how their feet looked like dinosaurs. I could barely come over and say hello to Jack’s parents. They took us to the ranch with stories about dinosaurs.

We stopped at the first paddock that housed a very old Appaloosa with my Glitter white Saanen goat. Jack introduced himself to Glitter and with the innocence and truth of a child he said to Glitter: “I’m so sorry Glitter, I’m so sorry that you have to live in such a small space.” Jack’s mom started to apologize, I looked at her and shook my head, okay. Jack was right, we were all trapped in a small space. He just didn’t know how to get us out.

We got to the chicken area and Jack chose the baby hens that he wanted to take home. He got to choose three. I was excited. He told them that they would live with him forever. I was so happy for him. While Jack was telling the babies how well he was going to take care of them. My elegant black rooster approached us. I asked Jack if he ever held a rooster and within seconds Jack was sitting on a log with a rooster on his lap, both cooing to each other. I turned around and smiled at Jack’s mom,

Said I’ve never had a rooster before. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, “I have never had an animal before.”

We leave the chickens, Jack’s parents behind us. Jack and I stopped in deep conversation about animals and life. I thought Jack was going to fall into this crevice along the way, so I reached out naturally, gently grabbed his arm and pulled him towards me. He kept chatting as I heard his parents gasp behind me. Later, I learned that children with autism are not supposed to be touched that way.

Jack’s parents gently packed the chickens into the back of the car, I said goodbye to Jack and we all said hello. I never saw him again.

Light led down my driveway, but a small streak remained. And I held on to Jack’s light until I started a new life for myself and my animals.

My sister was telling me the other day that my three-year-old niece loves Wavy Gravy. She always wanted to meet him. One day, they met him in the small town they share. He wore his clown nose.

After they met.

My niece’s father asked her if she liked Wavy Gravy. Could I feel her positive energy, her happiness?

My niece replied. “No, I can’t, but I can feel all its colors inside.”

That’s what Jack did for me. He returned the colors to the interior.