It’s been two months since I stepped away from my career as I’ve known it.
Away from managing concurrent multi-year projects. Away from organizing and archiving and writing within prescribed boundaries. Away from cramming dinner and homework and errands and soccer and and and into small blocks of hours.
Towards walking my kids home from the bus. Towards regular exercise and meals that take more than thirty minutes to cook. Towards writing for myself and my kids. Towards a happiness I have not felt in years.
I’m revising the book I drafted. I’m taking care of house projects that have lingered. I’m walking dogs and running errands and donating platelets and meandering in the woods and helping with homework and working on an exhibit installation contract. I’m adjusting to a less frantic pace and pausing to watch the late summer light make magnolia leaves glow.