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I unpacked the back pack that I used as carry-on on the plane and put the stuff back in my regular brief case. The back pack was so heavy that if I put it on in too big a circle I damn near fell over. My usual case had been almost as heavy, and awkward. But when I finished unpacking and repacked my case it was incredibly light.
I looked at all the stuff I’d packed, now back in proper places. I looked at the few things in the floor of my office needing to go somewhere else, and thought why was my brief case so heavy before, and why was it so light now? What was I missing?
I actually took the brief case to Jon and asked.
His reply, “You were carrying two books.”
Oh. That’s right. I insisted on carrying all three hundred plus pages of SWALLOWING DARKNESS, and a hundred plus pages of the next Anita book. Four hundred plus pages of manuscript will weigh you down. I had a thumb drive, and Jon backs up on another thumb drive. We have several computers and keep multiple back-ups. But I still insisted on carrying all the pages. Why?
Maybe it was remembering the great computer disk crash when we had to get Disk Savers to help us. Remember that one? Two thumb drives went down, and every other back up we had. We had angered the computer gods.
But that wasn’t why I was carrying everything around with me like a turtle. It was stress. The more stressed I am the more I want around me. More pages, more books, more whatever. It’s the old pack rat syndrome. When in doubt, carry it with you.
I hadn’t realized how burdened I’d let myself get, until I came back from this week of vacation and literally my load is lighter. I have just as much work to do, and my deadlines have only gotten closer, but I’m calm about it. I can do it.
Maybe I really am finally beginning to understand what vacation means.
Late in the week Mary, my mother-in-law, and I were at the tiki bar having smoothies. If we drank they’d have been daquiries. Mary was wanting to write an address down from someone. She turned to me and asked, “Do you have something to write with?”
She knew I would have a pen and paper with me. I always have pen and paper with me.
I said, “No, I don’t.”
She looked at me, laughed, and said, “Damn, you are on vacation.”
Yes, I was.
Just me, no notebook, no pen, no computer, just my thumb drive stuffed into the pocket of my cargo shorts. Me, watching the sun go down with palm trees, sea birds, and miles and miles, of miles and miles of blue water and sky. I think I needed it.