The Joy of Work

On vacation I had time to think. Too much time. I thought myself into all sorts of stress. Why was a certain thing happening? Why wasn't something else happening? Why did they need me at work so much that they had to interrupt me? Why did others need me so little in my personal life did no one miss me? Why was I obsessed with everyone else in the world?

I took a long bike ride. The winding kind. The lake was blue and the trees were green. It was hot and my bike bumped over broken asphalt on the edge of town, all the roads were white and they went on a long time, up into hills and around slivers of water. It wasn't an hour of the day, it was sun or it was rain, I was hungry or I was asleep, I was running, I was always early and quiet, quiet, quiet.

People talked to me, I talked back. People didn't talk to me, and I didn't say anything either. I read very much. I wrote very little. I thought about what I wanted in this life and I wished it. If it didn't come true right away, I kept wishing.

I'm back at work today and things feel safe. Everything is gray and it goes on a long time. I miss certain people in my life, I miss certain things. But I can't wait for them to miss me, because I have a long way to go, and I have to keep going.