Decompression

My friends S and A are at the gym, and John is already at the beach. Good for them, but I have declared a no exercise zone for myself.  I'm on vacation, you see, and at home I work out at least five days a week.

At home I eat yogurt and fruit for breakfast. Here in St. Thomas I eat goat cheese and smoked salmon.  At home I race from task to task. Here I sit in a lounge chair overlooking the turquoise sea. At home I drink my morning coffee while I check my e-mails. Here John pours our coffee, and brings it back to bed as we part the curtains to allow the sun to stream in.  At home I grab a solitary lunch usually standing up. Here I prepare lunch with friends, set the table on the balcony overlooking the beach, pour some wine and enjoy.

At home some days it is difficult to finish reading the newspaper.  Here I have brought with me my favorite literary friends.  There is Nic Costa, the dark and emotionally damaged Roman detective with a penchant for Caravaggio. Alex Delaware, a psychologist who consults with the LAPD on interesting crimes.  Alexandra Cooper, NYC assistant DA who is smart, tough, and majored in English Lit. Jack Reacher, lone wolf, ex-military cop whom trouble seems to follow. Yep. Murder and mayhem.

We have been coming to this lush tropical island with S and A for over twenty-five years. It allows us to pause the rush and chaos of everyday life.  For that I am grateful.