home for the holidays

I have time.
Sweet 16 days of my very own.
Obligation and responsibility packed away in their sensible grey boxes.
384 hour pockets of time I could choose to fill with meaningful constructions or nothing.

I have time.
To read, to think, to sleep, to taste my food, to have consequential conversations with myself, to watch TV, to exercise, to procrastinate, to initiate, to write, to talk, to pray, to let the world in, to clear my desk, to pack my shelves, to discard, to create.

Dolce far niente.
And I have the time in which to do it.