When we send an issue to the printer on the last Friday of each month, the relief is short-lived. Truthfully, I find it difficult to compartmentalize work responsibilities, to keep them from overwhelming my thoughts during much-needed downtime. When my mom slid two BLTs in front of me, I forced myself to choke them down. I was distant and detached, and found it difficult to be present. The pressures of my job were robbing me of quality time away from work. I was preoccupied with interviews that had to get done, articles that needed to be written, pages that would need to be proofed. When we took a weekend trip in early August, my mind was elsewhere. It’s an escape, an opportunity to enjoy the beach, unwind and rejuvenate. My parents live on the Jersey Shore, so we always look forward to driving down from Philly. I lean back in my chair in false protest, claiming I really shouldn’t, and then immediately devour both. She still puts a pair on a plate for me when my family visits. My mom used to make me two on white toasted bread for lunch nearly every Saturday during my teenage years.
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