Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Seven
Rest day.
I start to walk out the front door and realize the deck is wet. Wait. They did say something about rain.
“Alignment meaning: do my thoughts, words, and actions match?”
I think she’s crying. I almost stop to ask if she’s okay, but she’s actively trying to hide her face and look away. I tell myself that if I come back through and she still looks the same, I’ll ask her if she’s okay.
A light lunch.
“What happened to your dear friend?” Insert gut-busting laughter.
I tell the family chat that I’m trying to hurry up and finish my homework so that I can go to the game, too.
At first, I think she doesn’t care if I come, but then she says I can miss Back-to-School Night because I’ve already done it enough. Either she wants me at the game, or she doesn’t want me to talk to her teachers. I’m hoping it’s the former.
Look at all that green. Almost done.
Snoring.
