Thursday, September 15, 2016

The Longest Four Months

I can’t think of a time in my life when four months have taken longer, except maybe for when I was pregnant, or when I was waiting for my first novel to appear in the bookstores. But aside from those times, the four months between when I tendered my resignation to the County Judge and now have been endless. First there was the search for my replacement. Then there was the pleading for me to stay on long enough to train her. Well, I knew there was no way I could train her in four or five weeks, and sure enough, I have two more weeks to go, and she’s not trained, and really won’t be trained until she has a few elections under her belt. Even then there will be more and more for her to learn. (Are you reading this, Blanca?) It is a challenging job, and I gave it a lot of sweat and tears and worry and thought, and now I’m almost out the door, and the days are creeping by.

When I agreed to stay on, I made a deal to work no more than 27 hours a week, and they are paying me pretty well to do this, but it has only given me a taste of what the days will be like when they belong to me again. I have to work my hours in and not exceed the magic number, 27, so I often go in late in the morning. This allows me some serene time in my yard, drinking coffee, keeping an eye on Sam as he wanders and plays in the gardens, and to read. Oh wonder of wonders, to actually read again. To have time for that and a mind that is free enough to enjoy and comprehend the construction and development involved in writing a good book. I have been devouring books during this time of training, one after the other. Books I’ve saved up for when I had time again, and that is soon to be NOW.

And I’m longing to write. I want to dive in and finish the “Unfinished  Novel,” and start on new projects, too. I want to write articles, I have ideas, so many stories to explore before my mind gets too feeble to do all of this. Gee, I hope that doesn’t happen soon, if it has to happen at all.

I’m reading a wonderful, poignant novel right now by Cathleen Schine, called THEY MAY NOT MEAN TO, BUT THEY DO. It’s about family dynamics, the aging of one generation, the caretaker guilt of another, the coming of age of a third. Very well done. I can hardly put it down, but then, that’s my kind of story, the interaction of people who love one another, why we do the things we do to and for each other.

However, once this job ends, I am well aware that I will have a transition time, and I’m preparing myself for that, to be able to let go. I know my personality, and I’m a control-freak, too detail-oriented, magnetized by any challenge. My replacement will learn to do the job her way, and I will be OK with that, I am OK with it already. It has been good for me in so many ways, this job, and if I had found it at a younger age, before I took the writing leap, I would probably have made it a career. I know I will miss the bi-weekly paycheck. There is something to be said for bi-weekly money, even though I always felt I was sorely underpaid. But I will find a way forward. I almost always have. And I’m confident, and really ready for this long four months to finally end.

Onward….

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