Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Five
Just a few more minutes. And a few minutes more. And more.
Digging the finals week schedule and these two very different drop-offs.
He says my eyes look brighter.
Still positive.
Yeah, I’m doing the wrong thing here.
It’s the little things.
It’s dark, and he’s driving. We’re picking up his younger sister from the middle school. “Wow. I’m getting old,” he says. I say something about how many years it’s been since he’s been inside the middle school. “I realized today that I only have five more semesters of high school.” “It’s going so fast,” I say quietly.
We sit on opposite sides of the couch.
“Your conversations are interesting.”
Who’s washing clothes when there’s no dryer?
