Breaks

A friend in college told me once, "You're the only person I know who plans relaxing."

I thought, Is there any other way to do it?

The American in me judges my day by how productive I am.  Or by how much is not checked off my to-do list rather than what I have checked off my to-do list.  Actually, I don't know whether it's the American in me...or just me.

But sometimes I get lucky.

Last Monday the students were done for the day, I was prepping, figuring out residency documentation, then meeting with a colleague about a student.  Colleague said, "I know you're a pathetic drinker, but want to go have a sip of the good stuff?"  Weeks earlier, when someone had asked what kind of drinkers Daniel and I were, I had answered, "Pathetic.  We are pathetic drinkers."  I had explained that we can handle a glass of wine at most, likely not an entire beer, and often we even share one of these.

"Sure," I said.

He grabbed wine glasses, and we headed down to the school garden where the Agroecology students have been making wine, where Daniel helped carry barrels of grapes, where we watched the students grind the grapes, where Daniel and our own kids got to help mash the grapes one Saturday morning.  He poured us each a few sips while we looked around at the kids' work.  A ten minute excursion and a little wine on a Monday after work.  Not my usual Monday afternoon anywhere.  I walked up Via Cavour to our apartment smiling, grateful for the simplicity, the invitation, the ease.

The next day during morning break I went a separate way from my colleagues: they headed to Bar 103 for morning coffee; I headed to the sports store to get cleats for Sebastian, who was trying out soccer that afternoon.  As I walked around the walls on the way to De Marco Sport, I felt a little bad, thinking that I could have gone to break and dealt with the cleats later.  But I was a bit attached to my walking, my getting the cleats, my getting back to do some work before my next class.

I walked, got the cleats (lucky store number two had his size), and then sat back at my desk and settled in to watching Act 1 of Othello (Kenneth Branaugh, 1995) to prepare to show it later in the week.  Amy walked in.

"Ale and I are going out.  Want to come?" she asked.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

Amy headed over to Ale to ask where they were going.

I stopped her.  I realized that it didn't matter where they were going.  I could just go because really, that was all that mattered, going.  Taking a break.  Being with people.  I was getting a second try, a redo from morning break.

The three of us headed to Bar 103.  Sat in the sun.  Had a snack.  Then lunch.

It was so civilized.

It was not on my to-do list.

It was perfect.