(Vol. 1, Issue #006) "The Back Porch Pie"

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The Journal

Volume 1: The Call to Adventure

Issue #006 — "The Back Porch Pie"

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I was sitting on the back porch, stress-eating pie like I was training for some ridiculous shoveling competition. Sweet, warm, guilty comfort. My daughter walked out and caught me mid-bite.

Her face… disappointment. She asked, “What are you doing?” I froze. I wanted to be left alone — me, my pie, my feelings. “Eating pie,” I said casually.

She pressed, “Why?” I shrugged. “Because it tastes good.”

“You know it’s bad for you,” she said, that little edge of exasperation that always comes after concern. Then, “I thought you were trying to be better.”

Defensive, I snapped, “Yeah, I’m trying. But what’s the big deal?”

And then it happened. Her face changed, eyes wide, voice sharp with truth, “It bothers me when you and dad don’t take care of yourselves. You are all I have.”

Time froze. My 18-year-old daughter, parenting me. The weight of her words hit harder than any scale or mirror ever could. She’s seen the habits of friends, family, the patterns we repeat, the consequences. And here I was, failing not just myself but the people who truly cared.

She stormed off the porch, leaving me alone with guilt and my pie. I picked up my phone — out of habit, out of distraction — to scroll. Innocently. But my feed hit me with five ads in a row about balance, mobility, and strength.

And then one. A man performing a move called a Turkish get-up. I had to Google it. The message hit me like a punch: struggle with this move, and your life expectancy could drop by 25%.

Yikes.

I’m 41. I know people my age already facing bypasses and open-heart surgeries. And there I was, leaning on sugar and habit, oblivious to the consequences. Suddenly, the reality of my choices wasn’t abstract anymore. It was tangible, frightening, and immediate.

This was the spark. The mirror I couldn’t avoid. My body, my health, my life — and the lives of those I love — were all in my hands.

No more excuses. No more letting stress dictate my behavior. It was time to be better… for me, for my daughter, for the life I still had left to live.

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