Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-One
A good and deep stretch is exactly what I needed.
Trip prep.
I check my phone. Nothing from him. That’s a good thing. Hopefully, it means that he actually rested.
How many books can I fit in my bag? Should I pack any at all? Just a notebook? My journal?
Three carnitas in the shade.
I sit along the edge of the pool and drink a little bit of the pink elephant as I tilt my face towards the sun.
She says the word firecracker and I chuckle.
The smell of hair day.
Am I ready? Yes, and no.
31 days.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety
The glory of no alarm.
Another day, another gym.
The vulnerability of the ask.
One of the boxes in AAU Bingo: Refs shooting 3’s at timeouts.
But the drive is scenic along this part of the highway. All you see around you is rolling green hills covered in vines and a blue sky—a real life painting.
We find the right channel to watch the Ole Miss/Arizona softball game while waiting for more results.
Slow and long and yet, still.
We’ve somehow lost the connection between hard work and the reward.
The eggs are gone. All of them. I look around my feet for broken eggshells or some other evidence of their removal. But there is nothing. Just an empty nest.
Unprepared?
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Nine
Foggy morning.
Peony petals littering the dining room table.
The school is tucked inside a neighborhood at the base of a big green hill. The campus is so big that they have a map on display. I think about how all of my schools were single-building institutions. They don’t know how lucky they are to have fresh air.
New gym. Half a hot dog, raisins, empty cans of yerba mate, candy.
Knowing when to stop.
Capitalize on the energy.
I buy the marshmallows and crispy rice cereal so they can make themselves a treat, but really, I want a Rice Krispies treat for myself.
I tell him that I’m not trying to compare, but these are the things I’ve done today, and all I’m asking is for the dishes to be done.
80. What?
Live into it.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Eight
Late start, but I can still see the moon.
Feather finder.
This is out last session. She asks me what insights I have gained through this process. I tell her it felt good to say, “I no longer want this.” Now, I have given myself permission to move on.
Always dodging the sunlight when on these Zoom calls.
Everyone has their own path.
I'm missing the depth.
2022 Bodega Chacra 'Barda' Pinot Noir. The fries are still good, but the burgers are not the same. “A square cut of cake?” I say. “She would never.”
Really, truly out of office.
No. I really don't want to go.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Seven
Breakfast club.
There’s always this stretch of morning—right around the time when the day begins to break—when the birdsong is so loud I can barely hear my audiobook.
Swath of golden light on the peonies and the painting. Stops my breath.
Waiting and waiting and waiting.
Remember that you can just take a walk.
Kids PB & J and a container of fruit. A little heavy on the J today.
The echo of the ball in an empty gym. This hour is my own. Thinking while also trying not to think.
Of course, I feel compelled to clean and reorganize the fridge instead of reading two chapters for Psych, writing that email, and sending that letter.
Leftovers.
She asks if I’m ready for Yosemite. Ready? No. Excited? Yes. But, definitely not ready.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Six
Trying to find the moon.
The petals are still on the peonies.
A hummingbird greets me at the window. I smile back.
I am always eating in meetings. But if they would just not schedule meetings during lunch, I wouldn’t have to snack on Popcorners while talking about rules of engagement.
Its visit is generally seen as a positive sign, bringing the potential for recovery, often both physical and mental.
I make my way toward the sidewalk and feel the heat. I feel exposed walking on Main Street. Like everyone can see me. What an odd feeling.
When the wheels fall off, they roll down the hill really fast.
It is oddly clean.
Starting at the sunset in the side mirror.
How is it only Wednesday?
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Five
A little stumble over the speed bump. A little blood on my hand. Why is there even a speedbump here?
Breakfast club.
Zone of Excellence or Zone of Genius?
Frequent glances at the inside of my wrist. Ready for another one.
I look at her, smile, and quietly whisper, “I can’t do this right now.”
A lot of laughter in here today. That’s a good thing.
Dry turkey burgers.
Birkenstocks slapping against the asphalt. The smell of jasmine wafting through the air. Confused by all of the mulch they’re spreading. This house and its white cars.
This time of year, during these games, brings out familiar faces.
38
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Four
So breezy at the very top of the knoll. So worried about what might be in the tall grasses that blow from side to side.
Half a moon?
I don’t have my contacts in, but from here, it looks like a fox.
Analytical intelligence, power of deduction, observation.
I keep looking out toward the sky, but there’s no time for a walk today. There is only enough time to dry my eyes outs due to staring at the screen.
Keeping track of time.
I should have started using a whistle a long time ago.
It’s slipping away.
Warm enough to wear shorts in the stands as the sun sets. It’s that time of year again.
39.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Three
Bright burst of sun through the wooden blinds.
Cool morning breeze.
Counting the eggs again. Five pale blue with brown speckles.
I really hope I never get tired of this—of any of this. The colors in the sky, the humped hills and craggy mountains, the bent trees, the spotty cellular service.
7 years. Lucky number 7?
Now he gets to put faces to the names.
But I don’t eat them. I really don’t. Only when they come off the grill with a good char, dipped in mustard and ketchup. Very elementary.
Am I doing too much for this? Maybe. But maybe not.
“In a culture of overconsumption, I’m simply choosing to do less of everything. Or rather, I’m choosing what matters. Am I becoming one of them? No. I’m just becoming more me.”
2021 Pax Magik Vineyard Sonoma Coast Syrah.
40.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Two
Breezy sunny morning.
Making meal plans and grocery lists in the car.
It feels like the game is moving so slowly. Maybe it’s the constant gust of wind blowing dust against
I veto Chipotle and offer Foodshed instead. Italian lemon soda + four-cheese and caramelized onion pizza.
Perfect, perfect weather.
Gathering self and ideas and dreams. Trying to make all the pieces make sense.
A glass of Bollinger.
He starts to set down the petit filet in front of me. No sir. I’m the one with the 14-ounce ribeye, thank you very much.
Late to the party, but better late than never.
Sunset in the valley. Hugged by the silhouetted mountains.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Two
Ombre sky.
My pace is much quicker today. Maybe I’m just happy it’s Friday.
Ironic that in an eye doctor’s office, all of the pictures would be crooked.
Thirty minutes over time. Landscapers blowing leaves from the deck. He hope he doesn’t accidentally disturb the nest.
Per my last email.
Oysters and deviled eggs and mini ham sandwiches. I have him add the bourbon caramel sauce alongside the olive oil and sea salt on my buffalo milk soft serve.
There is still my cleaning to do.
Laugh out loud.
What did I expect?
On the way home, I think of the Christopher John Rodgers pieces that I have now held in my hands, seen in the flesh for the first time. I think of the high-waisted Dries Van Noten denim wide-leg jeans and the jacket. I think of the woman who wears these clothes, and how, in some ways, I see me. And I remember the importance of fashion in its ability to communicate externally who we are internally. Everything is communication.
On the way home, on Yountville Cross Road, the sun is doing its thing, casting its golden light onto everything, making you feel like you are floating in a fantasy.
Remember when you once dreamed of this?
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-One
TGI-Thursday.
The grasses are getting taller and taller. The poppies still closed. The moon is still big and bright and floating over the Mayacamas.
I check to see how the eggs are arranged today.
The color of the morning light reflecting off the painted pavement. Remember when it was supposed to be temporary?
How I miss our daily chats in his office.
Craving a walk outside in the sun, but not enough time.
No one actually feels like they are winning here, and that’s evident. I ask a maybe too obvious question: “Why exactly are we doing this?”
I hear a thud and see the little finch lying on the ground, stunned, shuddering.
Wine delivery.
Leftovers.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty
Slow.
I see the silhouette of Mama Bird sitting on the nest.
The more and more I learn, the more and more I feel affirmed—clear—that the next right thing will be something that is not this.
Considerate.
The irony of being late after talking about how much you hate being late.
I notice her looking me up and down twice. It’s the socks and the clogs. It’s that she just saw me in work clothes. It’s my work-from-home day. Birks always.
Five more days until school begins again. Yikes.
What do I need more of? What do I need less of?
Last choir concert of the year. Last choir concert for him ever?
Considerate - 2. Spirited - 1. Direct - 2.
“It’s cliche, but the saying is, ‘the truth will set you free.’”
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Seventy-Nine
No fog this morning; it’s going to be warmer today.
Still five eggs. I can’t help but stand on my toes to count them every time I enter the house.
How did I wind up having three hours of meetings back-to-back-to-back? Ten out of ten do not recommend.
Just. Use the form.
“But. How can we help you?”
Keep the aura clean.
The truth is that we’ll never really know.
I can’t believe I have a manager again.
I tell him that I know the feeling. I’m learning how to do it, too. “It took me fifteen years!” He laughs.
Make a list.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Seventy-Eight
The sound of rain dripping onto everything.
This really is the last time I’ll need to be in this office for this kind of thing. I tell him that it’s hard to believe my time here is done.
The to-do list is long.
Half-caff.
I feel his worry, and worry for him even more. Something about it doesn’t feel right.
Clean your aura?
Too many coincidences.
I count the eggs again before I open the front door. Still five.
He reminds me that he turned out okay in the end.
I really want to go to sleep, but I can’t. I’m going to blame it on the half-caff.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Seventy-Seven
Waking up to the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore.
Not quite ready to go. I’d take another day. And another. Maybe next time.
Large coffee and a buttermilk glazed. Dropping a tip into the kid’s travel fund. Thinking about my next visit. Next time, I’ll get another Mexican Hot Chocolate.
Because I want to be generous. Because I want to invest in the people and places and ideas that I think will bring more beauty into the world.
I stare out the window and look at the sky and the water. I think about how lucky I am that I already know I’ll be back.
Stairs vacuumed.
Now there are five eggs.
She did give a disclaimer.
So many dreams.
But there’s a lot of love. There’s a lot of love.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Seventy-Five
Slower start today. Slower pace today. I am starting to remember how to read the color of the sky.
A “find yourself” kind of Friday.
Perfect timing anyway?
“Be honest and vulnerable.” Who can learn with me? “Overlap can create faster cohesion.” “Lead with curiosity.”
I will not have time to vacuum, and I’m a little distressed about it.
This ride gets harder and harder every time. Maybe it’s because I’m always trying to squeeze in just one more email.
As he walks up to his second at bat, I yell at him to swing at the first pitch. First pitch. He swings. Single. If only he listened every time.
I make over to the softball field just in time to see her second hit—a line drive down the third base line. I love how much she loves her team.
Firepit conversations, photoshoot wine, and the sound of the ocean layered between laughs.
I forget he and I both have an interest in ghosts and aliens.
There’s a full moon out there somewhere.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Seventy-Four
First morning light. Relief. Maybe today will be easier.
Watching the morning unfold here, right now, I get the magic. But that’s all of this place, all of life, when you choose to look at the world with open eyes.
A cookie and a veggie burrito are easy deposits to make.
BLT with extra B.
But I’m almost already at the trash.
Wait. I wasn’t trying to be shady. I was just telling the truth.
Wrapped. 40,000 steps in two days.
Serendipitous timing: help with unloading and a vase full of flowers.
I make it in time to see one at bat. At least I got to sit down.
Kale Caesar, water, and a glass of rosé while listening to their giggles. One more game left.
Ten. Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Seventy-Three
The first thing I notice is all of the fog, which triggers a little worry about today's plans.
Then I remember that I didn’t really tell anyone that I would be in these spaces today. Not a major thing, but not a minor thing, either. Kind of major.
Coffee x 2 because this week just requires it.
On my way back I spot a snail on the stone stairs—the first one I’ve seen in years, maybe. It brings a smile to my face. What a good little bit of medicine today.
At least I’ll get my steps in.
When you trust your team, you can relax just a little.
I’ve been up since before 5 a.m., too. I’m starting to get a little delirious myself.
She did indeed lay an egg in this nest. “Nest as a symbol of home. Nest as a symbol of protection. Nest as a symbol of prosperity. Nest as a symbol of love. Nest as a symbol of growth.”
One more day.
But still need a little more time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Seventy-Two
Earlier and earlier each day.
I think of his comments about the wild animals, but push them out of my mind. I know this route. I’ll be just fine.
Quick texts to let them know you haven’t forgotten about them.
All will be well enough.
I take my phone meeting outside for my walk and manage to get in my mile while the breeze runs through my hair.
Dusty picnic table.
A little bit of Krug.
Hitting send on the final assignment for spring and then realizing you have only two weeks before your next class begins.
The timing is just not going to work.
When the dreams persist, you just trust that they’ll manifest when you’re ready.