I've been home for the past three weeks. Gnome socks. Target runs.
Sister is not made for this.
I'm ready to go.
The weeks of rest have been nice -- I've spent time with my family, read books, and had lots of time to myself. And ... now I am ready to get moving.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I had a different life, one where I wasn't jumping on planes and navigating a new city every few weeks. I'd get involved with the PTO! I'd have 17 more children! I'd find inner peace! I'd ... yeah, no. (Though after spending time at my son's school I so have some ideas to create change, and am going after that.)
The truth is: I know who I am. Who I'm not. And I get all kinds of antsy when the two aren't in sync.
I went back to work this week and got giddy starting a spreadsheet of ideas, places that need to be explored and covered. Started going through the bookmarks I'd saved over break about new digital business models, started going through the things that needed to be done.
I love being an editor. Even now, when things are so damn challenging. Especially now.
I love figuring out what's happening across a swath of the country.
I love diving into difficult things.
It's been great to have had this quiet time in Birmingham. But when I went back to work, I could just feel it. I was ready to get out and start doing what I do best.
Mid-week I set out to work on a story, one here in The Magic City (a rare thing for me.) I was sitting in Avondale Brewing, doing what I do in every other city. Talking to locals, taking notes. Learning about place.
After chatting with some folks there, I stood in their upstairs room, and watched the sun set through the trees outside. And I knew that it was time for me to go.