As the third decade of the 21st Century, looms around the corner, I find myself planning to work again, this December 29th. The sun is waking on this beautiful Sunday morning on an island in the Pacific ocean. Hundreds of birds, now fully awake, have been quiet and sleeping in several groves of Bamboo in view from a shelter that keeps me dry from the winter rain.
The past several days have brought me to a place where I do not readily recall the actual day of the week because I have been working through the weekends. The only centering point in my days was my birthday which came on a Wednesday this year. I have to check even if that statement is correct. Yes it is. Christmas was on Wednesday.
As I reflect on this, that I don’t realize the day … I think back when I was a child, sometime during the last century.
One childhood day, I realized my father was always going away to this place called work. I probably noticed this for the first time when I was old enough to stay awake for the entire day.
He was fortunate and able to have weekends off to do what he wanted, which was (as it seemed to me) to be mostly around doing stuff on our home or playing with us when he had the energy. I don’t fully recall the playtime, but do recall his work. Work consumed him and he was good at his job. I know this because, we had a place to keep us dry and he provided food and fixings for my mother, sisters and myself to stay alive.
I followed his lead, for reasons I do not fully understand … perhaps my mind and genetics were similar. The challenges made us tick and feel alive, doing things and enjoying our days. We were alive and drank coffee. We would get things to work or built and they would be functional for this and that. We’d sweat and need water and eventually sleep. I relate fully to these facts.
Many years later, I find myself working as well, for a company or on my own, self employed fixing something, building this or that, driving here and there, returning to rest and play. I’m not fully recalling the playtime these days, but just know the work continues to call me away.
So the story goes and continues and my life moves on and forward this sunny day. It is Sunday. I just checked the calendar. However, that elusive playtime, is but a fleeting thought or hope or dream.
I hope to find the time … while working for a living.