Last week I ate up every second of being unavailable as we drove West into the next Canadian province, for a family vacation in Kelowna.
One day I'll enjoy being available - I'll long for emails and for the phone to ring and for people to want things from me. But right now, there's nothing quite so lovely as the peacefulness of not turning on my laptop for a few days, as letting my cell phone battery die and not charging it for an entire week, with the knowledge I'll get to it all later.
In all honesty, I did check into my emails every now and then (an Internet junkie can't do cold turkey), but it calmed me, that I didn't have to respond to anything then and there. It would all wait.
I enjoyed the long, winding drive through the mountains and took the time to think and reflect. And by that I mean, I took advantage of random intervals between shrieks of protest and groans of discomfort and requests for more DVDs, colouring books and snacks. I simply take what I can get.
There's a certain something about British Columbia. It's very peaceful, and very imposing. Everywhere are deep valleys and towering mountains, all of it covered in the most luscious green forests.The open space is limitless and the woodlands vast and mysterious.
Yes, I fell in love, as I always do when in BC. And did I mention that Kelowna is famous for its wineries? Yes, true love indeed.
Being away from my life and unavailable to everything back at home made me think about how "available" I am day to day. Or, how available I feel I should be, if that makes sense. It seems as though I'm always switched on, always in touch, always "on" in one way or another. I feel the need to respond promptly to emails, to answer the phone or the door, even if my mood doesn't suit the timing.
In the end I suppose there's nothing wrong with being switched on, so long as I learn to switch off occasionally, too.