Things people say to me as I prepare to travel halfway around the world with my wife and three children, one of whom is only ten months old.
You’re so lucky.
You must be so excited.
I wish I were you.
You’re going to have such a great time.
You must be loaded.
How could they know? How could they know that I’d rather stay home and do nothing, that nothing would make me happier than a week of alone time, just me, by myself, in a quiet house, with no distractions; a week to eat and sleep when I want to, to do nothing when I want to, to explore the creative ideas and urges that I have as much as I want to, to maybe, just maybe, make some progress in pursuing a transition in my life from being employed to being self-employed? How could they know that all their complements just make preparing for this trip more stressful?
It's not something you can just explain to a stranger, that traveling halfway around the world to see your family isn’t exotic, that it’s just like getting in a car and driving across town to go home, only it takes a hell of a lot longer.
(1)
You’ve been gone so long.
To hear and smell you again,
Rain, in summer heat.
(2)
I can sense the earth
listening to me as I
listen to it.
(3)
Busy meant one thing
before I had children
and another after.
(4)
into the wet sand
we leave our footprints and watch
as they wash away
(5)
It happened again.
A book said to me, There is nothing
under my jacket.
(6)
when did I begin
using both hands
to get off the floor
(7)
When I was younger,
I thought I would change the world.
But the world changed me.
As always, thanks for reading.