My summer was a vacation from Jacob—a decidedly mixed blessing. I missed him terribly, and I had a cupboard full of uneaten granola bars and a fridge of fruit yogurt. But I had those lovely long afternoons all to myself. I wrote, committing 40,000 words to paper in July alone, although I’m a sporadic writer—I write in bursts, two hours at the most, sometimes twice a day but sometimes only once. I read mysteries, though not nearly as much as I would have liked; and I napped—those late afternoon naps that are my idea of luxury. I spent long days at home alone, another mixed blessing when I longed for a human to talk to in person—the telephone isn’t the same.
School starts in three weeks, and I’ll be walking across the street again. I’ll be glad to have Jacob back in my daily life, but oh, I’ll miss those naps. And if I don’t write in the morning, I may not get any writing done all day.
Yes, vacation was a mixed blessing.
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