That Friday

The Friday before vacation is a special kind of stress. You don't want to be missed in all the wrong ways so you make sure to tie up any loose ends. You file things properly. You look for a reliable backup. You gently but firmly refuse to take no for an answer from delayers.

You organize delegates for meetings you should be attending. You anticipate the things people might need while you're gone and you deliver them early. In your mind you hope it's as if you weren't gone at all. And when you can't think of one more thing. You slip out quietly. Without a grand exit.

No fanfare. You just go.

In the car you think of five or six things you could have done. Someone you forgot to get back to. But you keep moving toward home. Because this week you did the work of three months. And you have nothing left.

You earned this vacation. That first vacation glass of wine.

Finally around seven in the evening you start letting go. With help from that wine.

Two things:
-I wrote this post on my tablet and used pictures I took five minutes prior from my lounge chair
-I found that ladder in an abandoned lot and I love it. I also love Naveen's brief clad bottom.