It has been four and a half days since I left my office. I have not taken the work computer from the bag, have not logged in and read the hundreds of messages I know have collected in this time. I've fielded two phone calls, both simple questions with easy solutions, both full of apologies for disturbing my solitude. I've dug with my hands in the dirt of the garden. I've plotted colors for walls in our home and considered how to dismantle kitchen cabinets for refinishing. I've napped. But still, I toss and turn before sleep, considering problems that seem unsolvable but which I still feel responsible for solving. I turn them over like whole geodes, sure that if I hold them at the correct angle, the magic spot will present itself, the spot that when struck will split the stone cleanly in half to reveal the perfect, glittering interior. I still wake with jaw clenched, imagined conversations chattering away at me from what should be the quiet of that space between awake and asleep.
Let it go. Let it go.