The hum of my fans in the window has been lulling me to sleep for the past few nights. I love the soft breeze they create and the season they harken. Summertime. Watermelon, long lazy nights by the Hudson River and if you live in the Northeast; white pants. Once in High School a girl transferred in from California. She showed up at school in February in white pants. Midway through the day we were in math class and she whispered to me, “Why is everyone looking at me so oddly?” I explained, “No one wears white after Labor Day or before Memorial Day.” She looked at me horrified. “It’s OK, we know you’re from California.” I don’t think she took much comfort in the excuse I gave her.
I love a three-day weekend. The luxury of time, 24 hours to be exact, to do as I wish. I made no plans for today. My mind was set that I just wanted to luxuriate in the act of doing nothing. Squander the hours as the moments demanded when they arrived. I dreamed of this day all week as I rushed from one appointment to the next. When I awoke this morning I grabbed the paper, a cup of coffee and climbed back into bed. It was heavenly, as was the rest of the day. I needed to do nothing, to let go of demands and errands. The child in me wanted to dawdle and today I let her. I ate watermelon while thinking about what I wanted for lunch and yes; I wore white pants while doing so. Tomorrow, my “To Do” list comes off the shelf.