The Work/Life Balance Blur

I’m sitting in my mother’s living room, trying to get some work done. It’s hard here. Not just at my mom’s house, but in my small hometown in general. I was born in Tawas City and grew up here. I feel like a kid here, always. I drink my mom’s Diet Cokes without fretting about the aspartame. I roll through stop signs. I nab dog toys from my dad’s vet clinic, and nobody seems to care. Nothing counts here, but in a good way. It’s like the magical protective dome of my childhood is still in tact and waiting to receive me each time I return.

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