Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Six
At first, I think he’s waking me to tell me something has happened to the big kid. But it’s him; he wants to run up the hill to the hospital.
For some reason, the kid holding the balloon in the mural reminds me of Bobby Hill.
Almost three hours, but back home. I put my pajamas back on and crawl back into bed.
Icy feet.
1 p.m. The whole day gone, but I clearly needed the rest.
Linkin Park, windows open, driving a little faster than I normally would.
He asks if the new hair has made me a new person. I explain that it’s an interesting situation. As I said to them, there’s a difference between choosing to have short hair versus it simply happening to you. But maybe I’ll feel different once it’s all done.
At least, I feel like I’m in a position to move forward with a plan while maintaining some sense of confidence.
I realize that I haven’t eaten all day. I pile my plate with pasta and eat three slices of garlic bread. A glass of low abv Chardonnay.
She says it’s cute. I believe her.
