Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-One
Discipline.
The sound of the rain dripping onto wet rocks.
Luckily, no dogs this morning.
“You’re coaching again this year?”
I promise it’s because we only meet once a month or two. Really.
Leftover pasta for lunch. Again.
How do we adjust? Who’s thinking what? Did it work?
Step by step.
A cold and wet night, but her cleats look cool.
“If you’re interested in being your best, your inner monologue needs to support the best you want to be. In fact, when it comes to sustained performance, because doubt and disappointment are constant companions, controlling your thoughts is often the ball game.” - The Art of Impossible
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Eight
I could get up now. But I don’t want to.
Oreos and Clorox wipes.
It still doesn’t feel like basketball season, even though it’s the middle of November.
The gift of seeing how they see themselves.
At the end of the day, don’t we all want to win?
I’m not the only one who will eat croutons as a snack.
“I love this team.” I don’t know who said it, but it makes me fell 1,000% sure that it means we’re doing the right things.
This time, there are bags for the popcorn. This makes more sense.
This is not my speed.
Oh. Yes. This is why I say nothing.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Nine
Tiptoeing through the house.
The phone knows that at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning I’m stopping at the Safeway first.
Oreo crumbs.
The gift in this is to be able to see how they see themselves and each other.
Oh, I’m going to need a break by then.
The to-do list grows every minute.
I tell them that if they’re parking on the grass behind the actual parking lot, there’s no point in even looking at the line.
Deciding to go watch more basketball instead of doing my homework.
What would Sara tell me to do?
One more chapter before bed.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Seven
The sound of the rain.
Why do I always forget to pull the furniture in before the rains come.
Daydreaming of quiet time in a clean home with a fire going and a hot cup of something.
So embarrassing.
Feeling everything so much that you don’t feel anything at all.
But sometimes, perception is truth.
I sit and put a few forks of salad into my mouth and sit with the feeling. How long has it been? About a year and a half? That’s about right.
No. A one-on-one is a meeting.
Teriyaki sauce, yes. But also ice cream.
Game day.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Six
Sky on fire.
I decide to that there is enough light to hit the trail this morning.
Her car is here.
I didn’t think this all the way through. Defrosting broccoli cheddar soup in the office microwave is a painfully way to prepare a lunch when you’re so hungry.
The laughs.
It feels so weirdly warm. Humid? Uncomfortable.
I know I can’t hide it on my face.
Adjustments to be made.
Meatloaf and mashed potatoes and a last-minute dinner guest.
I think I know what it really is.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Five
Just a little bit more time.
Still groggy but pushing through one cup at a time.
Reading and writing and getting inspired again. This is why I’m doing this.
A breath of fresh air.
Leftover tomato soup with seasoned croutons sprinkled across the top.
Sure. We could grab a coffee, but I have no idea when.
I should take a few more days off.
Something about the start of the season feels good and right, even though all of the pieces aren’t in the right place yet. Maybe this is just what happens when you get to five years.
Eating my reward for finishing this short paper.
It’s going to be a good week.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Three
The first color of light.
He asks me why I’m up so early. Practice today. Uniforms today. Coffeecake and juice today.
The peace of a quiet gym.
I don’t want to get too excited, but these are good signs.
How am I doing it? I’m a little crazy. And very tired.
Family lunch. I choose a seat in the sun. We split fries and salad and pizza. He says he hasn’t had a Shirley Temple in so long. She convinces her him to drive her to Napa for soccer cleats.
Nap.
Winding roads lined with trees. The leaves are changing color and for a moment you could think you’re somewhere other than California.
Deep wooden benches and hometown crowds. Names on the roster I that I remember, like Shasta. Little baskets of popcorn.
Even my hair smells like steak.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Two
On Wednesdays, he sleeps in.
On the mend.
So. Cold. I break down and turn on the heat.
Am I supposed not to try to look well?
She gives me some much-needed homework. But when will I find the time?
The most delightful couple from Fort Lauderdale. Debbie and Clint. Genuine joy. Those kinds of people make you realize how grateful you should be to be where you are.
Oh. The first day of classes is today.
It feels as though people are offended by my unwillingness to hug or shake their hands when I’m recovering from a cold.
It’s not perfect, but it’s better than before. Progress.
Pizza delivered to the car window.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-One
Morning headache.
The sound of rain beating against the rooftop.
A deep breath.
One by one.
The hot bowl of soup only provides temporary warmth.
Just one more Nyquil-induced sleep.
Being the odd one in the group, not shaking hands or hugging because of a cold.
We talk about the importance of being around artists.
He sends a picture of her on the bench for the Varsity game.
“I cooked.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty
In the dream, I’m seated at a table in a room, and very important people are asking me questions about my project. Why this dream now, after I’ve already gotten the “yes”?
Cold.
It looks and feels like fall: thin air and whispy fog. The colors are wet and vibrant.
They haven’t refreshed the donuts yet, so I settle on some coffee cake.
Filling up your coffee and getting a little derailed by a ten-minute conversation.
I forgot the basketballs.
The five of us doing a little bit of work this morning. Another new face. Another reason to be excited.
Don’t think about Monday.
Surprised by its spaciousness and all the light.
Could I really wear a dead woman’s clothes?
I better not be catching his cold.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Nine
Cold legs, hot arms.
Hurry up and wait.
Snapping pictures of flowers covered in raindrops. Sipping hot decaf from the mug while watching him remove tape from the bins. Thinking of the days when doing this was actually part of my job.
A little bit of fun.
People tell me so many things. I must have the face of someone who is willing to listen.
Marinated hanger steak risotto and Chianti Classico.
When the tourists are already drunk on tequila and then decide to drink Cabernet at lunch before doing another tasting.
Making accomodations.
99-yard interception. 7-0.
Control what you can control.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Eight
Cold. Droplets on my face.
Almost Friday.
Yes! She’s here.
That is the gift of vulnerability: knowing that you are not alone.
Leftover broccoli and cheddar soup while taking notes.
Difficulty focusing, but I think it’s just the weather.
My least favorite gym.
Collapse.
Can I catch it?
They believe in us.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Seven
I want to stay asleep, but I know I must wake.
Big, full moon.
He’s making a mental list of all the other things he should be doing. I think he might be regretting this.
This is why you don’t bring Mom and Dad to the party.
I should be eating my lunch, but I can’t stop eating this wint-o-green mints.
Let the little things stay little.
I linger because I find it all a bit entertaining. But also worrisome.
Wait. I’m not supposed to care this much.
This.
Cold chilaquiles.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Six
No sleep.
Seeking balance in all it’s forms.
Honest conversation. A truthful conversation?
I find a spot on the front porch in dappled light and write and write and write.
Windows down. Red Hot Chili Peppers up.
Ugh.
I should start plotting the PTO.
I thought the same thing.
“Real optimists don’t believe that everything will be great. That’s complacency. Optimism is a belief that the odds of a good outcome are in your favor over time, even when there will be setbacks along the way.” - Morgan Housel
It will be a good week.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Five
Just one more day of Homecoming week.
Decaf + decaf + decaf.
I called it.
But everything is a big deal at this age.
So many girls. So many cheap and ugly dresses.
I overhear two moms say they are from Willits and Middletown. And they drove all the way here for this?
Soggy Wetzel’s pretzels.
Silent treatment.
Cactus in the knee.
Give them a little freedom, but they don’t know how to act.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Four
Might be time to switch to leggins for these morning walks.
The two of them in their number 11’s. Only one year of this.
Sit on the driver's side of the fire truck!
Six. Seven.
One of my favorite days of the year: red and white bunting in the store shops and sidewalks full of screaming kids and confused tourists.
The colors of the sky against the eastern mountain range as the sun begins to set. An almost-full moon.
But is there any trust?
Anyone can make a play.
The lesson here is that even if it’s not what you want it to be, you can still make it worthwhile.
What a fun season this will be.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Three
Today feels like a rest day.
It’s still dark when I get up, but there’s a spaciousness to morning that I miss.
I see her car and know it will be a much better day.
Team cilantro.
Devil’s advocate.
“This is why we pray to Cardi B.”
An order of fries, a double cheeseburger with no secret sauce, and one glass of Turley Zinfandel.
“I mean, look at how far this person has gotten in life. They don’t even know how to do the dishes.”
She’s got hands, too.
Usually, they need to rig this game but the Seniors have legitimately won.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Two
The sound of rain. I need a good stretch anyway.
And meditation.
Sweater weather. Fireplace weather?
The big one is sleeping in because he can so I get to take the not-so-little ones to school today.
Oh. She has “hell no” written all over her face. Is it the way I’m saying it? No. I bet it actually just sounds as bad as I feel it is.
Tough questions.
She says she’s excited. Thought about it all night. I tell her that I’m happy she’s excited. And that I’m excited for her. Excited for us. A relief.
The misses are just symptoms of my fatigue. But I still feel so much better.
Should have made those turkey burgers.
Reciting in my head what I will say so I can get out of the door at 2:30 without feeling bad about it.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-One
The sound of rain on the roof. Do I walk, or do I stay? I walk.
Maybe it’s time to put the Instagram away. Except for basketball. But everything else? Maybe it’s time for a break.
It’s going to happen. I’m going to find the right one.
Can’t stop the yawns. Blaming it on the weather.
One can only eat so many sour patch kids.
“Don’t let them suck your soul.”
Rosé and talk about life. And a melon.
Like a black hole sucking all the life out of the building.
I think I found the right one.
Aura building.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy
Cool air slipping beneath the covers.
I hear a noise in the trees. It’s too dark for me to see exactly what it is, but I think it’s the turkey, or the turkeys. I quicken my pace to avoid having to see what it is.
Tomorrow I’ll walk the other way.
I talk myself out of it because there’s simply not enough time.
Dark and quiet. Just like I like it.
He says “die” and “death” and I can’t help but laugh to myself. This is going to be interesting.
Finally done with these.
Just me and him in the gym. 2010’s playlist. Finding my rhythm.
Maybe, one day, this will be me sitting here in these chair supervising.
Klondike bar. Heath.