You children call it a “Nothing Day.” You say it with delight: no tennis, no piano, no swimming. Instead, you turn book pages and select markers; you stack Legos and strap on helmets. Really you’re crafting. This feeling, the Nothing Days—and all the Something Days— these are the hours of your tender new lives, the making of you. You can’t possibly know. I want to clutch this time. It’s my history, too, but you dart and laugh, you test your strength, you play and play, all busy with your fast-beating hearts.