Ten years ago I escaped to Prince Edward Island with a wonderful friend. It was a much needed intermission; a break from life's daily routine. It was my first time traveling on a plane. I was nervous and excited all at the same time.
We sat five rows from the front. Great seats really, but I remember a feeling of anxiety wash over me the moment I sat down and realized there was very little room between myself and the seat in front of me. I stared at the back of that blue vinyl chair and took in a deep breath. The walls felt much too close. I leaned over the empty seat beside me and gawked down the narrow path that led to the back of the plane.
I wondered if it would have been better for us to sit in the back. I thought I might feel less confined if I could look ahead and see a greater expanse between myself and the front of the plane but we were well past the planning stage. Five rows from the front was where we had to stay. It wasn't long before a young woman took the aisle seat next to me and I was soon challenged to leave my anxiety behind. "Relax and enjoy the ride," my friend said.
When the plane took off I closed my eyes. My stomach flipped. I ended up chewing the flavor from my gum in record time. I felt no desire to look out the tiny window nor did I have to. I was getting a glimpse of the world through eyes other than my own. The white fluffy clouds were described as something similar to soft cotton.
In the end, I survived the ride and came back from PEI feeling refreshed and ready to pick up my daily routine right where I left off.
When I'm writing, I always take some time away from it -- my own intermission, you might say. I never finish writing a story without some sort of break. I find when I let it go for a few hours or even a few days, I come back to it feeling refreshed.
Ten years ago I took a break, experienced something for the first time and learned that it was okay to pick up where I left off.