And it is suddenly the end of the week. What a funny little week it was, with the romping around on Monday and Tuesday, and the little heart-and-soul crushing thing that happened Wednesday, and the bounce back on Thursday, and the full realization this morning that I'm off on the road (at least a little) this summer.
(And I get to play with my sweetest friend and best partner in crime. I'm already giggling. I don't care that I'm too old to be giggling. And then there's the rest of it. Which makes me weak in the knees. And the getting on airplanes. Which really makes me weak in the knees. And...alrighty, enough about giggling and weak knees.)
Of course, there was also the quivering son telling me he managed to blow up the Xbox this morning, and the subsequent trouble-shooting and packing off to Microsoft I got to do.
(It was the dread 3 Red Rings of Death, and not actually his fault. General hardware failure. So it goes. I'm still in the 3-year warranty for it.)
Stomping down the channel trail this morning, sweet smells of citrus, jasmine and sweet peas perfuming the air, I suddenly realized it's APRIL. How did it get to be APRIL? Spring is everywhere.
Time and motion. Sometimes, time moves too quickly.
Giddy now, but there is time until June and that time is largely filled, filled with stuff, most of which is not fun. Like taxes. Something I really should start, yeah?
The responsibilities loom so large, and if I think too much about them, I feel myself breaking under the weight of what everyone expects. My frustration is that since I make it all look effortless, no one else knows the cost. They only see what I seem to pluck out of the air and hand to them: proposals and solutions and delicious dinner and college strategies and help with a portfolio, a computer simulation, a book chapter, a set of photos, elderly parents. Then they expect more.
So I hug my secret journey to myself and hope. I giggle. I allow my knees to be weak and I get on planes. I hate flying! But for this, I will. Planes will take me heaven knows where. In a day, I'm jogging along the Mississippi on the border of Illinois and Iowa, standing on a beach in Puerto Rico laughing into the wind, sitting on a horse Somewhere Very Far Away. Anything can happen. Anything does. It is my salvation. It keeps me breathing in the times in between, the hard times, the lean times, the times when the demands are unrelenting. It takes me out of myself and reminds me why I do everything else.
I try to save the world one day at a time, save one person at a time. And then I look outward and the world saves me.
Go listen to some good music: "Secret Journey" from the album Ghost in the Machine by The Police. I hadn't listened to this album in years, but thought of this song a week or so ago, and it sent a chill right through me.