Does it still count as Spring Break when I’m not on break? Yes, I think it does.
Now that I think about it, I realize that it’s actually the first Spring Break since I graduated from college. It’s kind of funny to think that at this time last year, everything was different. I was living in a different apartment, I had a different job and a college class once a week that I do miss, and I wasn’t engaged. I can’t tell whether I was a different person then, too, or if I’m much the same.
This would’ve been a great weekend to visit my parents in Centerville, though. My two younger cousins are up there because it’s their Spring Break, and I think it would’ve been fun to be around their energy and chaos. Kind of like living with little brothers that I never grew up with. And my dad started to occasionally keep the older one when I was about 18, and sometimes we would take him to do stuff together, like to the Aquarium, and I always had fun. I would’ve made a great big sister. But, as I work this weekend, I’ll have to content myself with being an adult, instead.
I can’t remember anything about last year’s Spring Break, but I vividly remember the one before. It was 2017 and I was taking an Honors class, Artists & Their Regions, and the region we were focusing on was the Mississippi Delta. So that Spring Break consisted of a class trip to the Natchez, Greenwood, Oxford, Yazoo City, Clarksdale, Glendora, and Jackson, with our two professors, their toddler son and his grandpa, the Director of the Honors College’s Center for Creative Work, and 11 of us exceedingly different college kids.
I had the best time.
Mississippi holds a special place in my heart, but I think that was the only Spring Break I spent there. The other two trips were taken in the summer, to visit my Uncle Jim and Aunt Rita in Bogue Chitto. Neither of them are there anymore, but I vividly remember the heat, Uncle Jim mowing lush green grass under blue sky and brilliant light, and I wish I had taken a picture. That’s where the story I’m working on is set. Mississippi. On their land, though of course I tweaked the house and everything to better suit my characters’ lives. I wonder if I would have an easier time working on it if I could simply be there.
Spring Break used to mean a week of open days, preferably sunny and warm, and endless possibility. This year, it means a little sun and mostly clouds, and the temperature dipped again today, and I have to work at 1:00 this afternoon and I work tomorrow and the next day, straight on through Wednesday. But it feels consistent and I’m okay with that. No matter how this year is different from every other, Spring Break still means time to write while I hope for our real spring to come quickly.