Turn 221 of 233

Relax with each other. Do nothing the whole day

Lena wakes up on the concrete and the waking is the thing that is the slow. The slow is not the thing that is the tired. The slow is the thing that is the choosing. Today is the thing that is the not-work. Today is the thing that is the not-running. Today is the thing that is the not-lifting. Today is the thing that is the not-site. Today is the thing that is the nothing.

Kimo is beside her. 372 pounds of thirty-one-month-old boy sleeping on the concrete the way he always sleeps — flat on his back, arms out, chest rising and falling, the low hum in his chest like a motor idling. The humming is the thing that is the always. The always is the thing that is the not-stopping even in sleep. Lena watches him for a long time. The watching is not the thing that is the monitoring. The watching is the thing that is the being-near. The being-near is the thing that is the enough.

She does not get up. The not-getting-up is the thing that is the new. Every morning for months the getting-up has been the thing that is the automatic — feet on the floor, coffee, site pad, barbell, whiteboard, library, crew, phone calls, packets, files, foundation, under, holding. Today the floor is the thing that is the staying-on. The staying-on is the thing that is the rest Kimo told her about. Rest is the refilling. The foundation refills.

Kimo opens his eyes. The opening is the thing that is the gradual. He does not sit up. He looks at the sky. The sky is the thing that is the blue and the blue is the thing that is the October-morning. October mornings on the balcony are the thing that is the cool. Cool is the thing that is the Florida-rare. The Florida-rare is the thing that is the savored.

"Mama," he says. His voice is the thing that is the not-fully-awake. The not-fully-awake is the thing that is the soft. She has never heard him soft. The soft is the thing that is the new.

"Yeah, buddy."

"Today is the what?"

"Today is nothing," Lena says.

Kimo is quiet. The quiet is the thing that is the five-seconds. Then: "Nothing is the thing that is the not-doing. Not-doing is the thing that is the not-nothing. Not-doing is the thing that is the being. Being is the thing that is the different from doing. Doing is the thing that is the changing-the-outside. Being is the thing that is the not-changing. Not-changing is the thing that is the resting. The resting is the thing that is the being."

He rolls onto his side. The rolling is the thing that is the 372-pounds-shifting and the shifting is the thing that is the sound-on-concrete. He faces Lena. His face is the thing that is the close. The close is the thing that is the not-touching but the almost. The almost is the thing that is the warm.

"Being is the good," he says.

They stay. The staying is the thing that is the morning-becoming-noon. The becoming is the thing that is the sun-moving. The sun-moving is the thing that is the shadow-changing on the balcony floor. The shadow is the thing that is the moving and the bodies are the thing that is the not-moving. The not-moving is the thing that is the contrast. The contrast is the thing that is the felt.

Lena's stomach growls. The growling is the thing that is the 790-pounds-demanding and the demanding is the thing that is the not-ignoring. She does not get up. She reaches behind her — the cooler she set out last night, the thing that is the prepared. The prepared is the thing that is the thinking-ahead. Inside: hard-boiled eggs, a block of cheese, bread, two bottles of water. She eats lying down. The eating-lying-down is the thing that is the not-graceful. The not-graceful is the thing that is the not-caring. Kimo takes an egg. They eat in the lying-down. The eating is the thing that is the quiet.

"Mama," Kimo says. It is the thing that is the afternoon. They have been on the concrete for six hours. Six hours of the nothing. Six hours of the being.

"The nothing is the thing that is the full. Full is not the thing that is the busy. Full is the thing that is the enough. Enough is the thing that is the not-needing-more. Not-needing-more is the thing that is the rest."

"Yeah," Lena says. Her eyes are the thing that is the closed. The closed is the thing that is the not-sleeping. The not-sleeping is the thing that is the feeling-the-sun. The feeling-the-sun is the thing that is the warm-on-the-skin. The skin is the thing that is the tattooed and the bare and the 790-pounds and the warm.

"The outside is the thing that is the not-here," Kimo says. "The outside is the thing that is the packets and the evaluations and the phone calls and the files. The outside is the thing that is the not-today. Today is the thing that is the inside. Inside is the thing that is the Mama and the Kimo and the concrete and the sun. That is the thing that is the everything. Everything is the thing that is the enough."

Lena opens her eyes. She looks at him. He is looking at the sky. His face is the thing that is the not-thinking. The not-thinking is the thing that is the rare because Kimo is the thing that is the always-thinking. The always-thinking is the thing that is the Kimo. But today the not-thinking is the thing that is the also-Kimo. The also-Kimo is the thing that is the rest. The rest is the thing that is the being.

"Buddy," she says.

"Yeah, Mama."

"This is the good day."

"This is the good day," he says.

The sun moves. The shadows move. The bodies do not move. The not-moving is the thing that is the choice. The choice is the thing that is the good. The good is the thing that is the being. The being is the thing that is the enough. The enough is the thing that is the today.