Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Sixty-Six
4:30 a.m. Up early because I fell asleep so early. I flip over my phone and see that another one can’t make it.
Waiting until 5:00 a.m. to send a text because that seems more reasonable than 4:37 a.m.
I step outside with my small cup of decaf and listen. All I hear is the song of a bird or two. Above the treetops, the sky is blue. To my right, where the sun is rising, a hazy glow from the fog. Like magical mist.
“I just don’t ever need to do this again.”
Platinum blonde? I don’t think so.
The longer I live up valley, the less I want to leave it.
That looks like a St. Helena Little League hat, so chances are it’s him.
Go Cubs, go!
Bouche. Didier Charton-Vachet, Montagny 1er cru Les Jardins d'Ysabeau 2022. Soft, glowy lights. Hand-painted mural. Small tables and an Algerian named Ramses.
Is this what it might feel like when they all leave the nest?
