I didn’t expect him to be surprised by my answer. He knew that my job was convenient for me – it was a five-block walk from my apartment. He knows I have a son with special needs. In his mind, I was comfortable where I was.
And in my mind, I was comfortable unless the right opportunity came along.I knew his offer required working outside of Manhattan – a reverse commute. That was a no no.
Who would get my son, James, dressed for school, or take him in if he missed the bus? Who would do homework with him, or go to school events and therapist meetings?It just wouldn’t work. But this gentleman was persistent probably because like a man he wasn’t thinking about all that I have to manage.
But then another man chimed in about it. It was my husband saying I should take a more serious look into this opportunity.“But, who’s going to manage all of this?” I asked.
“What is ‘this’ and what do we need to ‘manage’?” he answered.[Is he kidding? Either I’m so amazing that I don’t even break a sweat – or someone isn’t paying attention to all that is going on.]
“Hmm. Let me think… ‘This’ is ..you know…our LIFE…our autistic son, the appointments, the cleaning up, the “stuff”…all the freaking “stuff” that requires a flexible schedule. If I take this job I can’t just pop into school or come home whenever something comes up. You’ll be with James for at least an extra hour every night and you’ll have to get him dressed and on the bus in the morning…”“We’ll be fine. I can pick up the slack.”
[Slack? Is that the name of all I’ve doing?]I reminded him that he’ll be the main contact with the school - “…that means you have to carry your cell with you at all times now. Are you o.k. with that?” I asked.
“Sure….” He answered with less conviction in his voice.I spent the next two weeks in deep discussion with friends over whether we could make this new world order work.
But the consensus was that people will have to manage including our eight-year-old son, which may not be a bad thing.It’s been just a few days and so far we’re all o.k.
The commute is an hour every morning and evening of “me” time. I can read, write, and think with no distractions. I haven’t had that in eight years.Have I been overestimating this slack thing or will something big hit the fan soon? Or maybe it’s something in between and the timing is right because we’re at a place where we can all handle it.
If this really works, then I’ve reclaimed a part of my life even if it means escaping on a train to do it.
Maybe it will be exactly what I’ve needed. Actually, maybe it’s what we all needed.