Life is a juggling act. I think we can all agree on that. We all struggle to juggle careers, finances, households, and personal relationships. Author James Patterson took this analogy a step further, explaining that careers, finances, and households are the rubber balls in our juggling act: If we drop them, they’ll bounce back—eventually. But our personal relationships, according to James, are made of glass, and if we drop one of those balls, the relationship is likely to shatter.
As with most things, balance is the key here, isn’t it? Ugh! I’m incredibly unbalanced and clumsy. That must be why there’s so much shattered glass at my feet.
It’s accumulated over the years, and now, I really have no choice but to face the truth: I’m never going to achieve balance on a daily basis. It’s unlikely that I will even achieve it on a weekly or monthly basis. But I am striving to achieve some semblance of balance on a yearly basis. (Hey, it’s better than nothing—and also, is that some broken glass I see around your feet?)
So, in an effort to achieve this annual balance, it’s time for me to climb out of my rabbit (writer) hole. Time for me to give my family some undivided attention. Time to eat a little. Sleep a little. Play a little. It’s time for a nice, long vacation. And for the first time in five years, I’m not taking any work with me. No computer. No notebook. No work whatsoever. So, TTFN, my friends! (You’ll probably never even know I was gone, seeing as how I’m only capable of keeping up with the most LOW-MAINTENANCE—and forgiving—of friends!)
As for the people who used to be my friends: If you dropped me, I totally forgive you. If I dropped you, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. There just weren’t enough hours in the day for me to get all my balls up, into the air, and keep them there. It’s not an excuse. It’s a fact. And the fact is, there still aren’t enough hours in the day. (I would be a much better friend, if only I didn’t have to sleep! But I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work out well. At all.) So, please just know that if I ever loved you, chances are I still love you, still think of you, still wish you beauty, bounty, blue skies and happiness. And chances are I would still be there for you if you ever really needed me—well, unless I’m in the Virgin Islands, which I will be by the time this blog entry posts—but after that, if you need me, I’m there. Really. Probably.
I am reminded of a teacher I had in high school, who once explained to us, his fifth period class, that his wife was upset with him for not telling her that he loved her more often. His response had been, “Look, I told you I loved you the day I married you. If something changes, I’ll let you know.”
In closing, I wish to say to all my friends, past, present, and future: If something changes, I’ll let you know. I hope you’ll do the same. But otherwise, we’re good, right?