Dearest Rachel –
You can probably tell that I started writing this to you last night, even if I use descriptors like “last night” when it’s still fairly early in the evening – too early to go to bed, more to the point, even if the sky has been dark for hours. There’s this feeling that I should prepare something to say to you, even though I don’t particularly know what, as the weekend begins, and I’m going to be a bit too busy to communicate with you for a while.
It’s weird to think that, back in those workfarce days, I used to stay at the office regularly until nearly six and beyond – although considering that there was always going to be work that needed to get done, it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to recall it. There was always the terror of having to do that much more later if one didn’t stay as long as possible to take care of it, and I dare say it may be one of the reasons why I don’t remember much of our days as I should, since I was either away working, or thinking about what work there was yet to do. It’s just that on an afternoon like yesterday, where I almost didn’t get out of the ‘office’ until almost five, it feels weird to have to stay there so late, even when that’s literally considered the bare minimum quitting time in the real world.
Although, in fairness, I didn’t even get over there until almost noon, so it was still a rather short day as the weekend approached. Between putting in some time at the gym (because I’m still waking up on the wrong side of two-forty more often than I’d like, not that it seems to matter all that much anymore), working with Logan on actually preparing a breakfast like he does, and running a load of laundry (where the dryer doesn’t seem to be able to track time very well; a hour passes on the outside, but apparently only twenty minutes goes by according to its timer. Must be that Einsteinian relativity at work there), half my day got chewed up before I ever made my way over to Mom’s.
But once I was there, I got everything taken care of for camp, after having completed the work needed for church a couple of days ago. I honestly can’t remember when the closing process finished this early in the month. This means I’ll be able to fly out next week with a pretty clear conscience. And for a short work day like this (let alone for the nascent weekend), I can consider the ‘work’ done to be quite sufficient. I’ve earned my time off… however much there is of it, and what I expect to do with it.
Because, of course, most of Saturday is spoken for – it’s part of the reason I started this last night, even as I could sense my ability to put together coherent thoughts diminishing with every additional word. There’s only this window of a few hours today, between Bible study and rehearsal, in which I’m free to contact you – and even then, I may not be exactly free to do so, as Logan usually stays upstairs until just after noon, and Daniel hangs out with me (unlike on Friday evenings – hence this work on getting something started).
Likewise, I would do well to get started on transcribing Sunday’s entry from you, since I’ll be occupied throughout the morning. But honestly, I’m just not at my best in the evenings. If you were here, we could talk directly – and do more than talk – and that would be sufficient, but as far as putting words down to be read, that’s a whole different endeavor; it requires effort, energy and inspiration that I just don’t have at the moment.
But whether I do or not is kind of irrelevant; I feel like I have this responsibility to keep in touch with you about my life, and my days, even when there doesn’t seem to be much happening in them. If you can pick out the progress in between these lines, good on you; I wish you could tell me about it, because I’m not seeing it; and if these letters seem to be the same-old same-old from time to time, it’s because I’m not able to see the interesting parts like I used to (or maybe they were interesting enough the first time around, but since I’ve written you about them before, there’s no point in repeating myself).
I wonder if that’s why so much of our time together is lost in my mind…
Well, there’s nothing I can do about that for now, I suppose. For us down here, time only moves in one direction – forward, or at least, what we call ‘forward’ – so I’ve got to prepare myself to move in that direction. Maybe something will happen over this time; I know three was talk last week of the group getting together tomorrow. But I haven’t heard anything much about specifics – or plans at all – over the last seven days (now there’s an inside joke I could take an hour going over, yeah?). So I don’t know. I’ll tell you about it if something happens – or if nothing happens, I’ll tell you about the disappointment.
But that’s for later, when I have time to tell you. For now, I’ve got to get going. Keep an eye on me, and wish me well; I’m going to need it.
