Time. It floats. It fades. It flies. It flits. It flees. And the thing is, the haunting thing is, that we can't get it back. Once it is gone, it is gone. And I know this is obvious. I know I am not saying anything revolutionary here. I am stating the obvious. That time moves, and past us, and away.
And another thing. Another obvious thing is that time is not unlimited. Minutes pass. Hours turn. Days dry. Months finish. Seasons cycle. Years evaporate. Decades die. Lives end.
And so. It matters immensely how we spend our time. How we utilize the increments of our energy. Because how we spend our time is really how we spend our lives. It matters fundamentally and fiercely whom we spend our time with. Because the characters in our stories are our stories, aren't they? They are it. It.
On this Friday in mid-June, this eighteenth day of the sixth month of my thirty-first year, I am thinking about these things. These simple and complex things.
Time. Creatures. Limits.
For the past year, and for the past several months in particular, I have worked very very hard. I have not slept well. I have not stopped. I have not logged nearly enough time on the wood floor singing and giggling. My fingers have done far more typing than tickling. And this makes me sad.
Because there are three creatures in my life, one big and two tiny, who need me. And I need them. And when I think about it, really think about it, when I allow myself to be honest with myself, I realize that I have not been there for them. Not in the way I would like to be.
Instead, I have been here. Tethered to this screen, loyal to my sentences and to my stories. I have spent much of my time (too much of it?) here. And good things have come from this. Brilliant things. Friendships and partnerships and ideas. A blog. And a book. And these are exquisite things.
But they aren't my creatures.
And so. On this morning, I am left here. At the screen that has sustained me and supported me and taken me away. And I sit here now, a bit shaky, my cells tired, at a crossroads. Do I want to be here or do I want to be there? Really, I want both. I do. But sometimes, in the cracks of my days, in the cavernous crack of this particular day, I wonder - and worry - if both is possible.
It is a big question. A bold one. One that deserves me. One that seeks gentle thought and true embrace. I will give this question what it needs. I will let it soak me.
Tomorrow, my three creatures and I leave for vacation. There are plane rides and fishing trips and sand castles in our immediate future. And, up until this very moment, I have been terribly torn. Tugged. I have been confused about what to do. Because there are words to wax. A blog to maintain. And a book to promote. This is a critical time in my career.
But you know what? This is also a critical time in my life. A time when precious plates are shifting within me, when impossible questions are saturating my soul, when things are awash in grit and gray. My girls are young, but growing. Too fast if you ask me. My identity feels frail, fractured, full. Blogger. Author. Wife. Mother. Please note the order in which I list my aspects.
This says it all.
For the next two weeks-plus, I am taking time. Time off. Time away. And this scares me a bit, more than a bit, tremendously, but deep down I know. I know this is what I need. What they need.
My three creatures.
My three reasons.
I hope you all have a wonderful couple of weeks, a great Father's Day, and Fourth. Please do not give up on me in my absence. My words and I will be back and soon. And fresher than ever. Thanks to you all for your sweet support and understanding now and always.
*The lucky winner of Allison Winn Scotch's The One That I Want is Lena!*