Ten.Two Thousand & Five
4:30.
I tell them that I trust them. That I picked them because their work is beautiful, and this is a beautiful place, and we’ll make something beautiful despite things not going exactly as we planned.
I stop and take a picture of the morning sky as the sun rises.
I quickly scan my Instagram DMs and see the finished portrait of me. With the portrait are her words describing my work, and her words feel exactly how I imagined and hoped whatever it is I am doing here means to people.
I think it’s silly that I’m unplugging phones and clocks and Nespresso machines.
The wall. I am hitting it.
Everyone keeps asking me how it’s going.
From her mouth, another affirmation
You’re calling at 4:15 because you’re hoping I won’t answer, and you know no one will be here on a Friday after 4:30 to answer the phones, including yourself. And so you’d rather I just have to think about this all weekend.
I want names.
“All in a day’s work, right?” But this isn’t the kind of work with which we want to be bothered.
The mosquitos are out, and the light isn’t where it’s supposed to be, and there is no sense in forcing the issue. We’ve done all that we could do.
Last baseball game of the season. Last game of his freshman year.
She reminds me that anything is possible.
