We’re in Florida for a few days to visit family. For once I packed running shoes. Florida doesn’t require bulky clothes, and I’ve been eating and drinking nonstop since the beginning of November on my work trips, and the weather would be pleasant for running, so I sacrificed some of my luggage space for the shoes. Up until today, I’ve run every morning we’ve been here.

This means that every afternoon, in the doldrums of the day, in the time between lunch and dinner that’s lazy and free when you’re on vacation, I have down time. Two of our days, we’ve all brought our novels down to the neighborhood pool. It’s too cool to swim, at least for me — I wore short sleeves and bare feet, but with long pants — but it’s lovely to sit in the sun by the sparkling blue water and listen to palm fronds rustle in the breeze.

Our daughter wants to sunbathe, and our son wants to hang out outside of the house, and I want options, so I bring my new backpack down so I can read or sketch or write — whatever I feel like doing as I relax into the total empty space of time when I get to choose whatever I want to do.

One day, I drew a palm tree. Both days, I read. I started out upright in a normal chair with my feet on the ground and my water bottle on the side table next to me. After a couple of chapters, I’d feel warm and golden, like honey. I’d feel tired of bing upright, so I’d move to a lounge chair to get more horizontal. I’d read a few more pages, and I’d feel the heat of the sun on my skin and on the hair on the crown of my head. It was so soothing and comforting. I’d get that delicious drowsy feeling. That’s one of my favorite feelings, to feel sleepy in the sun and know that I have the leisure to close my eyes and lean into it if I want. I’d put my book down on the stone pool deck, take off my glasses and set them on my book, lay my cheek on my arms on the lounge chair, put my hat over my face, and fall asleep in the warm winter sun.