I am sitting alone in my small Florida home enjoying the peace that comes only from being detached from any schedule or demands of work. This is my island in the sea of worldly cares. My safe harbor in the raging storm of stress in which most of us live our daily lives.
While I am awaiting the telephone call that will signal my reinsertion into the demands of a work schedule, at the moment I have nothing to do, no place to be, and nobody awaiting my arrival or departure. There is something liberating in a complete lack of responsibility. Something relaxing about not really knowing or caring what time it is. My computer is the only clock in my house and it only displays if I request it to do so.
I know that soon enough I'll have to pack up my gear and return to my real home; the highways and biways that meander about this vast land like great ribbons of asphalt and concrete. It's a good place to be, drifting through the countryside; here one moment and gone the next. Little more than a passing thought in the mind of the land.
While living as a ghost passing through the ether may not be the ideal life for most people, I find it to be a free and liberating life that allows me to escape the sort of monotony that can often come from working in the same place doing the same thing every day. My office is as transient as the morning mists. While I may be inside the same great machine every day the view out of my windows is as ever changing and varied as the land itself. The faces always new and different yet always the same.
As much as I enjoy spending time resting and relaxing on my little sheltering island, a part of me already longs to be back out there sailing that sea of twelve volt lights.