And just like that, it’s over.
I’m feeling a little like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz today, except when click my heels together three times tomorrow morning, it will be back to work for me. Six months has flown by and I can hardly remember the fear – and excitement – that accompanied the beginning of my sabbatical at the beginning of March when I closed down my laptop and work phone and left them on my desk in the office.
For the first few weeks, I eschewed alarm clocks, routine and the newspaper. I slept (a lot!), read books, walked and puttered in the kitchen. While this self-indulgence was luxurious and amazing, I soon realized I needed a bit of a schedule, or six months could get frittered away pretty quickly. So the alarm clock made a reappearance, albeit at a later time, and while I was still smarting from the pain of international travel still out of the question, I got down to business.
A small home reno (delayed from before Christmas) give me a cozy little space to write in, and the story that I’d been teasing out of my head in fits and starts for several months whenever I had a spare moment, started flowing out and taking me places I hadn’t imagined. It was like it had a mind of its own and I was fascinated to see what I was dreaming up.
Late winter turned into spring and I looked, with a bit of wry amusement, at the tulips popping their heads out of the ground. I wasn’t expecting to see those tulips when I planted them last fall. I was suddenly glad I’d done so, as they brightened the world up, as everything else seemed grey, dark and dismal. I spent hours walking on local trails and slightly further afield conservation areas.
Finally, after months of revisions and self-edits, I had a draft manuscript. With some fear and trepidation, I handed it to my family and asked them to be critical. Was this just a vanity project and should be taken no further? Or did I have something worth continuing with. I knew that at least one of them would be brutally honest! I While they were reading, I started laying out a completely unrelated story, one which had began occupying space in my head around Christmas time. I was having some real fun with that one, when they started to come back with comments, thrilling me with their positive feedback, and some much appreciated constructive criticism I could work with. I tackled the feedback and then looked for some “beta” readers – some slightly more independent people who could look at my manuscript with less biased eyes.
Unfortunately, the pandemic held on, and the dreams of long lunches with friends and new social activities were shelved. Spring gave way to summer, and I came to grips with the reality that that my entire sabbatical would happen from my living room. Canada was slow off the mark with vaccinations and I was pretty sure I’d be getting my second dose about a week before I was due to go back to work. Turkey, where I’d been hoping to go, was also slow and the case counts there were high.
But suddenly the stars aligned. Second doses of vaccinations were sped up in Canada, Turkey was jabbing its residents at numbers of over a million a day, and their cases were dropping. I weighed the risks and suddenly, it looked doable. Holding my breath, I took the leap, and within three weeks, I was on a plane, planning to spend six weeks there, writing and soaking in the magic that is the Bosphorus and the city of Istanbul in general. The initial plan, when my sabbatical was meant to start in March 2020, and then again in March of this year, was to be away for three months, until about mid-June – perfectly lovely weather for walking and exploring. But Turkey is hot in the summer. Really hot. And this year, the country was experiencing an oppressive heatwave, that ended up being partially responsible for severe forest fires – but that’s another story.
I spent six glorious weeks exploring the city I watched the sun rise over the Bosphorus while drinking tea most mornings and the moon rise in the evenings, often with a glass of wine in hand. In between, I explored the city – both new and familiar parts – and kept writing. I reconnected with some old friends and somehow managed not to eat too much baklava! I traipsed up and down hills and steep staircases, meandered along old cobblestone streets and spent hours on ferries. While I was away, feedback started coming in from my beta readers and I’m encouraged. It will be time to engage with a professional editor shortly.
Too soon, it came to an end and a little over two weeks ago, I found myself back home again, weeding my overgrown garden and slowly trying to make the mental transition back to full-time employment – but not before a quick reunion with all of my kids at once. We had a blissful day together. I hadn’t had them all together since Christmas of 2019.
So the alarm has been set, the clothes (and mask!) laid out and I managed to find my briefcase and work identification. Tomorrow we’ll see if any of my passwords still work!
