Vacation

A guy is pretty responsible all during the school year; suppose he works, as goes the old saw, 24/7, (that is 24 hours a week, seven months a year, ha-ha); certainly, he deserves a day where all he does is get up in the morning, ride his bike over the hill to do an hour and a half of yoga, before coming home for breakfast, and then, after pedaling his kid to summer camp, returns home, changes clothes and rides the tandem with his spouse to a bar/restaurant where he has appetizers and beer for brunch and lunch while watching a sporting event that’s reasonably entertaining and comes out just as he would have hoped; then, a charming stroll around with his loved one and a stop in a vintage clothing store where he scores a couple of wearable items, cheap, followed by more bike riding and iced coffee at the grooviest of coffeeshops, until it’s time to pick up his kid and have a late lunch and a cold one with the whole family; certainly, a guy deserves a day like this at least once a summer, right?

If he were in another country—or even town—all this would seem perfectly acceptable, but for some reason, in the place you live, you feel like you ought to be doing more, even if what you might be doing wouldn’t really make the world all that better a place, at least no better than a place where a guy could enjoy a day like this whether he merits it or not.

His hat goes off to all the good people who had to be indoors in an office or classroom today and he assures them he’s doing all he can to make sure that the loveliness of the day was taken full advantage of; maybe he doesn’t deserve it, but then, that’s all the more reason to pay such homage to the grace that makes it possible.