Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Seventy-Seven
Rest day.
That panic that rushes through the body at 5:23 a.m. when you hear the trash truck coming, and you aren’t sure that they put the cans outside.
Work-from-gym day.
Two more days until PTO.
She tells me that this one kid has come all the way from Fortuna. Fortuna!
Station chopped salad for the win.
The invisible load keeps getting heavier and heavier, and it feels as if there’s no season of life when it will lighten.
Apologizing for being late to a meeting that really didn’t need to be a meeting anyway.
You think it’s just basketball, but it’s more than that.
“Not about me.”