Sitting by the pool, I squinted my eyes at the torrid back yard,

my lawn chair slightly separated from the others.

My glass of iced tea sat within reach, ready to rescue an

overheated and dried out tongue. 

Water condensed on the sides and slid down the glass,

Attempting a lazy demonstration of gravitational pull.

I'd put on sunscreen, but the sun was so bright and hot-- I knew I'd probably burn anyway.

The kind of heat that would feel overwhelming back at home, but in Las Vegas, it was perfect.

You and June were talking, and I didn't pay attention to the words.

I just wanted to relish in the serene calm that was the afternoon of Las Vegas Summer. 

The overfilled pool lapped at the patio, threatening to spill out onto the concrete

but I wasn't worried about getting wet. 

I wasn't worried about anything.

There were no upcoming tasks, no problems to be solved, no work that had to be completed. 

There was no emergency situation that needed tending to. 

It was a vacation in the finest sense.

A break from all worries, 

from all pain,

from all stress.

A moment in time in which I felt truly content.