Tomorrow, after being gone for 30 days, I’m returning home. I’m extremely fortunate that I love my job and I love traveling, but everyone assumes it’s all sight seeing and hanging out when I’m gone for work and nothing can be further from the truth – during the 3.5 weeks in Oakland, CA I averaged 60-hour weeks, working long days and every weekend. Yes, I managed to squeeze in a few different poetry events (open mics and the Berkeley Poetry Festival) and I went hiking with a friend, but I also worked my butt off. Then I flew up to Seattle, WA for a different set of meetings.

Tomorrow, I hop on a plane and head home. I’m ready to see my boyfriend, my dog, my house, my bed. I’m ready to get back to a normal routine and not live in a hotel. As I sat thinking last night I wrote a quick poem. Enjoy.

30 Days Gone

I’ve been gone

for a month, the longest

absence we’ve endured thus far.

My days are busy

with work – hours stretch

into the night leaving me

exhausted when I finally arrive

at the hotel I call home,

falling into the bed

that is mine for the stay.

 

You promised to pick me up

when I arrive. I look forward

to your embrace.