My Laptop
My laptop followed me home last night. I had an end-of-day meeting. I rushed out of there at 6 pm to pick Gabriel up from preschool, and there it was, hanging from my shoulder, swinging at my side like a childhood friend.
Lately, my laptop and I had grown distant, so I was surprised by its reattachment to me. There was a time (ok, two months ago), when my laptop and I had been constant companions. Hannah was hospitalized during the last two peak work period (end-of-fiscal-quarter). My laptop sat vigil at Hannah's bedside with me, helping me crunch numbers as she slept, saving me from blurry-eyed embarrassment by spelling checking emails for me, and just generally watching my back.
But then there were the lean months between quarter ends. Hannah came home from the hospital, and the nursing agency that had supported her for over two years fired her, essentially. Simultaneously, work slowed post-year-end: enough to complete most of my work at the office, allowing Janette and I time to figure out how to staff 6 out of 7 nights ourselves and still give both Hannah and Gabriel some family time.
My laptop was left at work at night, alone. Powered down, the docking station was cold comfort. The buzz of the office settled to an ear-popping silence, broken briefly by elevator dings as a security guard or maintenance staff wandered the floor. Like my kids, my laptop was used to being awake and active at night; now, however, it was left to its own silent reflection.
Now as we switch to a new nursing company next week, returning our nights to some sense of normalcy, my laptop has decided to hang out with me again. I feared recriminations, but it seems to have accepted our brief interlude, knowing that quarter-end was just around the corner and that we would be together again soon.
-- Dad
