Another week, another Monday. For those punching the standard clock, it’s the return to the workplace grind, the return of ushering kids to school and picking up groceries and all the mundane tasks life throws our way.
For me, it’s the final week of one of my jobs, and while my sleep-deprived brain is relieved, I enjoy this workplace and would like to stay, if I could. Push and pull. The conflicted divide between want and need, between present and uncertain future.
I won’t miss the morning transit commute; I’m a night owl and without the mercy of my music blasting in my eardrums and worsening my hearing, I wouldn’t be able to cope with the unhappy faces, screeching of subway train on rails and the claustrophobic sardine can that rush hour becomes. I won’t miss the frustration of lacklustre fast food options for the gluten intolerant. I will miss the people, the interactions and the moments of gratitude for the effort I expend. I will miss the extra financial security.
Reality and its many challenges of late pain me, but the one bright spot of that commute each way is the closing of my eyes as the notes begin, drawing me away from the now to something better. Sometimes, we just need to get away, if only for a few minutes. Sometimes, all we need is a holiday from real.
Holiday From Real – Jack’s Mannequin