My "day job" is pretty mellow about eleven months out of the year. Get to do what I love and be home to make dinner. Get to take vacation days with the kids and feel like I'm makin' a difference in the world.
But that twelfth month...that twelfth month shit can get crazy.
Pertinent to right now, I got home at about eleven Friday night and I'm headed back out at 3:45 tomorrow (Monday) morning. I considered whether I should even come home in the middle--it was only about 53 hours, after all, from entering my front door to leaving it again--but goodness am I glad I did.
Because there's nothing like dancing at a wedding to make you feel the good in the world. Letting your Nice Mother-In-Law help take care of your shared little family so you can take a two hour nap. Gathering with friends to do some good, honest, messy work. (That would be butchering five loud roosters.) A three-mile-run-and-bitch-fest with your BFF. Holding your baby while she naps in a mama-knitted sweater on a bright, fall day. Sitting down and really watching "The Lego Movie" with your son, and then chuckling as he reenacts it in the bathtub late Sunday night.
There's nothing like those things to remind you--or, me, I guess, rather--that there are a whole lot of good reasons to keep fighting the good fight and a whole lot of people in the world who love me and have my back.
And that is most certainly worth an early Monday morning flight out again.