Any time you stop something suddenly there's a jolt to the system and a shock to no real agenda.
Taking things personally as every one does, it's good to be reminded the whole keeps on turning without you ... even the tiny world you just left.
My friend Angela was scared to retire because she didn't think she could handle the change ... waking up every day to see who cared about her on Face Book ... so she kept working long after she wanted ... letting them take far more than they should ... giving the last of what she held dear.
"I don't want to be alone in front of my computer hoping somebody cares enough to like because I need affirmation to live ... that's just sad."
In the end, it happens anyway.
It always does.
Sometimes though, you get to pull the trigger.
Angela did and found a new life full of family, grandchildren, road trips and introducing herself to herself again ... and liking who she is away from ... it all.
Her Face Book posts are joyful celebrations of life now and thoughtful, loving responses to what she sees in the lives of others.
When I suddenly stopped last week ... because at this stage of life I'm not going to let them take more they give ... having learned that's merely Rape by another name.
So I shock most everyone at work I've grown to love ... and didn't care about the others.
It shocks me too because, I have lots more to give ... so it's a shame it didn't match what the "Company" demands.
Life's too short for such mismatched living.
On this first day of the non-work week, I'm feeding our Baby Che ... staring at the Palm Trees outside the window ... writing a song in my head for my wife ... with my bare feet propped on Goddess our bag-o-bones dog ... listening to birds and frogs sing through the open windows.
Sarah's off stocking up on groceries because, God knows, we need to make things stretch out but ... Che's flashing me sleepy smiles as I read text from our daughter Maddie ... the clueless 15 year old who knows everything ... wants me to take her to Target.
"Mom said you should," she writes.
"Che," I say out loud, "don't believe everything you sister says. You'll do much better in life."
The six week old smiles melting my heart into a glowing pool of love I don't deserve at this stage of living.
The time for the Monday morning Conference call arrives, the one forgetting everything you've ever done to remind you of what's needed now, and I'm tempted, having kept the number and access code.
But I'm no longer a contributor to their madness ... though it was fun for a while.
Goddess sighs under my bare feet ... the Palm Trees drip wetness in the warmth of a December day ...the birds and frogs grow tired ... Maddie can't text because school's started ... Sarah's on her way home with groceries and ... Che smiles.