As we celebrate Labor Day I’m thinking about work, what it means, how it changes as we grow older. Last week, I penned an appreciation of the writer Wendell Berry, who died a week ago. I proposed the piece, wrote it quickly, and the editor turned it around in hours.

It was the sort of thing that happened all the time when I was part of a magazine staff or a communications team, but it doesn’t happen that way much anymore. The pieces I’m assigned usually have generous deadlines, as do my papers for school. Writing is much more of a solo occupation than it used to be, and this has made me think about the part of paying work I miss most: collegiality.

I remind myself that even if I was part of a magazine staff again, I would likely be writing and editing from this desk in my upstairs office. I worked at home for years, quite happily. But one of the reasons I became part of a magazine staff again was for the people.

Do we underestimate the people part of labor? Kind colleagues can make a difficult job bearable, while snide, backbiting ones can make each day a prison.

When we talk of labor, I think we often concentrate on the tasks at hand, items on a to-do list, the headwind of the working life. Good colleagues are the tailwind. They help us glide through the labors of life.

(Colleagues, friends and bystanders on a work trip to Bangladesh.)