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| I know two things: (1) I love this island. (2) I love this boy. |
I fell into a bit of an impromptu travel season this month – three back-to-back trips with a weekend between. Just enough time to empty the suitcase into the laundry cycle, to re-roll and re-pack once it was refreshed.
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I am learning that one is not in direct competition with the other; that separation doesn’t always mean absence, that these two ideas are not mutually exclusive. That life, mostly, can be compartmentalized until it can’t.
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It’s an odd thing, to receive the very thing you wanted. To receive the quiet of an empty room you’d wished for only weeks ago. To receive the alone time you crave, the silence you love.
The whiplash of it all.
The release from responsibility in one area, straight into the throes of responsibility in another.
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It’s about presence, for me, I’ve come to know.
It’s about being gone when I’m gone. Being home when I’m home. Being all there, wherever I am, and resisting the temptation to bow out of social hour because I need to FaceTime.
(Resisting the temptation to bow out of family time because I need to hop on a call.)
