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By Root 235 0

it’s still possible to manage everything, but it takes a little more effort. Next come the rapids, and all of a sudden, everything is more challenging. Maybe there’s a new project at work, maybe someone in the family gets sick, maybe you move or get laid off. Whatever the reason, you spend those periods steering the canoe, struggling to stay afloat. You wake up in the mornings feeling you’re already behind, and each day becomes a frantic race against the clock in order to get everything done. And then the rapids begin to roil even faster, and you go right along with them. You “have to,” you “need to,” you “have no other choice.” You go, go, go. And in the distance, you hear the roar of the waterfall, and you convince yourself that your only option is to paddle even harder. You’ve got to steer through those rapids and somehow get to safety. Otherwise, the waterfall’s going to take you.

That’s where I was throughout 2002: in the middle of the rapids, steering frantically, with the waterfall growing louder. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. And I’d been there for the previous three years.

I’m not proud of this. It’s not a sign of success. It’s a life without any sort of balance, and in the long run the waterfall will eventually take you. I know that now. The problem was that I didn’t know that then.

My wife, however, understood this. Cat is one of those rare people who find it easy to keep everything in perspective. She’s not only an attentive mother, but has dozens of friends she talks to regularly. She is close to her family, and yet, as busy as she was (five children, with three under two, will keep any mom busy), she spent her days with none of the frantic urgency that I couldn’t seem to escape. She, more than anyone, knew I needed an escape; she also knew that my natural inclination was to deny that I needed one and to suddenly think of an excuse not to go on the trip. Or worse, refuse to enjoy it and relax, even if I did.

Lying in bed one night, she asked me about the trip and I mumbled again that I was having second thoughts.

She rolled over and faced me.

“You’ll have fun,” she urged. “And you need to go. You’ve never done something like this.”

“I know. But it’s not really a good time.”

“It’ll never be a good time to go. You’ll always be busy. It’s part of your nature.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Of course it is. In fact, you never let yourself not be busy.”

“Just for the last couple of years.”

Cathy shook her head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve been busy since I’ve known you. You can’t not be busy.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I thought about that. “For the next couple of years, I’ll be really busy. But after that, it’ll slow down. In a couple of years, I’m sure I’ll have time for something like this.”

“You said the same thing a couple of years ago.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

I paused. “I guess I was wrong then. But I’m sure I’m right this time.”

Beside me, I heard my wife sigh.

Despite her words, my feelings of anxiety about the trip only grew stronger as autumn approached. My brother, like my wife, sensed my ambivalence on the phone, and began to call more frequently, doing his best to bolster my interest.

“Hey Nicky,” Micah said into the receiver. “Did you get the package TCS sent us?”

TCS was the company in charge of the tour. I was at my desk in the office working on my new novel, The Guardian; stacked in the corner were two large boxes, still sealed, that had remained untouched for two weeks.

“Yeah, I got ’em, but I haven’t opened them yet.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t had the time.”

“Well open them,” he said. “They sent us a bunch of cool stuff. They sent us a jacket, backpack, and suitcase—and other gizmos, too. There’s also an itinerary . . .”

“I’ll get to it this weekend.”

“You should open it now,” he insisted. “In fact, I think you were supposed to send in one of the health forms already. And, you’re supposed to make a decision about which site you want to see in Guatemala. It’s either the ruins or the market downtown. You have to send that by the end of the week.”

I closed my eyes, fretting that something else had