Demands

Life is a series of demands. Hurry up, perform. Do your homework, write a paper, oh and read 300 pages, get in those volunteer hours, grab those lab credentials. I get busy, caught up in projects and I forget stuff like dinnertime, peeing before it’s an emergency, or like calling you - last night. On vacation I’m unplugged, I’m avoiding focus, I’m not paying attention, my mind’s wandering. I’d want you less if it were required by law. I imagine your huge, brown saucer eyes exhibiting a wounded, blaming expression and I can’t. Maybe there’s a biological explanation, yes, that’s it, I’m missing an enzyme, I have a glandular disorder that prevents long distance relationships from working. No, not work - It can’t be work - it should be exciting. Is it a crime to want some time off from pressure? I’m not asking for a pony. Just a sabbatical couple of weeks away from obligations. I felt so guilty that I went to Karen (Lisa’s mom) about it. We talked for over an hour, she’s so smart, I love her. She reminded me about the recent lockdowns and how years of skyping and remote learning might affect (dull-down) a long distance romance. I told her what you said, about my sinatra psyche and she said although I seem absurdly secure, I’m probably still figuring things out - and that’s ok. There’s really no substitute for talking to a mom. I called you - and left a message - I hope you understand. I turned my phone off - for now.