Out of Office

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

The thing I won’t forget is the sand in the bed. We were in Maui, just north of a beach town called Lahaina, in a one-bedroom condo that we’d rented for five days. There was a window air conditioner that sputtered above the bed. There were clean white sheets, a white blanket, and sand. Mike and I collapsed into bed after being on the beach one day, and normally, sand in the bed would irk me beyond reason. But we were on vacation. This wasn’t our bed. I didn’t give a damn about the sand and I certainly didn’t give a damn about cranking the air conditioner all night.

I brought my laptop, thinking I would write. I brought books, thinking I would read. I did neither because sometimes, there is no activity more valuable than rest. Creativity is work, and I was tired of the grind and constant push, not just at my day job but in my writing life and in my running life. There is no reward without struggle, but sometimes, a person needs a goddamned break. I have never been good at resting though, so although I arrived in Hawaii ready for a break and tired of the grind, I was also unable to let it go. I checked my email periodically, refraining from answering anyone. I thought about work more than I should, as if thinking about a hamster wheel will suddenly transform it into a road to somewhere good.