Dodged a bullet

There were major lay-offs at my company this week. Ten percent of the workforce is gone. As foreshadowed earlier in this blog, this came as no surprise to me, though it did to some of my (perhaps naive?) colleagues. The only thing that did surprise me was that my whole department has come through it unscathed; neither I nor any of my friends have been directly affected. We are incredibly lucky. Some people who I thought were permanent fixtures of the company got the tap on the shoulder.

Though it was no surprise, it was still a shock: enough to make me realise that I am very fortunate to have a job at all, and that it is time for this period of vague disillusionment and apathy to come to an end - and I am not just talking about work. Soon after hearing the news, I felt a sudden urge to do more fiction writing (perhaps in anticipation of soon having a lot more time on my hands to write a novel?). I'll let you know how that plays out!

'Oh where have you been, my blue-eyed son? Oh where have you been, my darling young one?'

Those opening lines of Bob Dylan's song 'A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall' took us by surprise the first time we heard them in the car travelling around America. They moved us deeply then, and even moreso now. And I just wanted to make a little tribute to our darling blue-eyed son, the best, most adaptable, most tolerant, most engaged, most surprising and above all most fun travelling companion we could have asked for.

Hudson River, New York City, New York
Boston Common, Massachusetts
On a beach in Andrew Molera State Park, Big Sur, California
Grand Canyon South Rim, Arizona

Desert near Joshua Tree National Park, California
Hidden Valley, Joshua Tree National Park, California

Post-holiday blues

They've been very dark blue. In fact, I'd say a particularly melancholy shade of indigo (and we all know how melancholy indigo is at the best of times). I actually cry when I hear 'Girl from the North Country' (Freewheelin' Bob Dylan was one of our road-trip CDs). There must be a direct correlation between the joy experienced on a trip and the doomy depression that follows.

So, now is the time to ponder the worthiness of this life plan of ours. In the current economic climate, spending all one's money on travel seems a particularly foolhardy thing to do (although ironically, if everyone starts believing that, I will soon be out of a job/income). What's more, housing in these parts is apparently as affordable as it has been for five years, with interest rates looking pretty attractive. In fact, putting our money (and yes, we do have some left over) into a house would most likely be the thing a clever, astute person would do.

I admit, it's very tempting, and not something that I have ruled out. But the logic of our initial decision remains, and now it's backed up by the emotion that will always be attached to those precious memories: the best, easily, of my life as a parent so far, and in fact I think I can say without hyperbole, my entire life.

Who knows when the next trip will come - if I had my way it would be later this year, but it might not be until next year or the year after, or possibly in many years time. But my position essentially remains the same: screw astuteness. Every parent should travel with their child; in my opinion, those experiences are the most valuable things you could ever possess.