Wishing for Recess

I long for recess, for uninterrupted time to play with no responsibilities, no tasks looming before me, threatening my peace of mind (or my very small piece of mind for that matter). Now even when I have play time, a long weekend at the beach perhaps, the tasks waiting for me disturb my tranquility. Don't get me wrong; I'd rather lounge on the beach than on my couch at home, but I worry about what's waiting for me: the E-Anthology posts to read, the grants that may need tweaking just one more time, the poems that are oh so close to perfection, my own drafts that need multiple revisions before I can abandon them, the dust that has visited the entertainment center far too long, the rings around the tub (but at least it's not mold, Matt), the miniscule demands of everyday life.

Recess happens after the ISI ends--a week at the beach with family. But Blackwater will still call me back to Valdosta during that recess for two days of professional development. Recess just isn't quite the same now. I still long for it, cherishing every minute, but it no longer offers completely free time, uninterrupted play time, time free of professional obligations. And I guess that's okay because to be fair my professional life includes some play time, time like this morning, time to write, think, and play on paper, enjoying my own words and the words of others, watching a trail of words to see where it leads. It's still a place of discovery, a place of play, a place for the imagination to wander.

On a side note--why is this room so much hotter than the rest of the building. It's a mini-hell in here. Thank goodness we don't have a lot of hot air to make it worse.