Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Nine

1. Oh, it’s cold. I ought to close the window.

2. Muffins for breakfast. Mushing fat berries with the backside of a fork.

3. So much yellow light.

4. I can’t stop thinking about the house. I keep mentally placing furniture on walls and thinking about color schemes. We’ll need taller bar stools and some real patio furniture. How many air mattresses?

5. Gloved hands wrapped around a large peppermint tea. So many more leaves on the ground this time. We walk under the road and come up the other side to find a few more trolls. The water. The light.

6. We got our 10,000 steps. I’m grateful for this walk. I’m trying not to think about this being the last one.

7. French onion soup, roast beef sandwich, steak skewers, cheese plate, charcuterie board. Beaujolais and Gigondas. I am so hungry today. Maybe I am eating feelings.

8. I can’t get the nose ring in.

9. I’m not hungry anymore. There are not enough days for all of these names.

10. 15 days.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Six

1. It’s after 6 and still really dark but I need to get up.  

2. Oh, this sunrise is going to be good. 

3. There isn’t a way to capture it, really. Not the way I want to. Not in a way that would do it justice. 

4. It’s cuter than I thought it would be. The farmer’s market is setting up. We go into the diner and get some breakfast. Orange juice, water, coffee. Scrambled eggs and bacon with hash browns and wheat toast.  

5. Persimmons in their glory. Flower bunches and ugly gourds. Lots of tomatoes and eggplant and squash. Blackberries almost as big as my pinky.  

6. We stand in the driveway while his wife brings the keys. The sun is so hot that I’m sweating in my sweater. I like this neighborhood. I like being on top of a hill. But.  

7. The owners might be changing their minds but she gives us the code to go in anyway. Enough rooms for the both of us to have an office. So much light. And the view from the back—that would never get old. 

8. I use my Safeway discount card.   

9. This one. This one could be good. And since it’s apparently the last one we’ll be able to see today, it has to be this. But I just wish they could tell you on the spot. I pray that this one comes through.  

10. Johnny Salami’s for a sandwich and chips before a bottle of rosé at Hannah Nicole. Darcie Kent for a surprisingly refreshing Chardonnay.  

10.1 Range Life. Olives, a sea bass crudo, the best steak tartare I’ve ever had, roasted squash with burrata and pepitas, apple cobler. Bründlmayer and a beaumes de venise.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Seven

1. Time to get up. 4 am always comes so fast.

2. Stuff everything back into suitcases, roll it all to the elevator. The parking lot lights flicker on as we make our way to the car.

3. You always feel like you’re leaving things behind.

4. I can’t remember the last time I read an issue of Wine Spectator from cover to cover, but I have just done so and I should get back to doing it more often.

5. How do you say that you’re going home but you’re not really going home? How do you return to a place you are leaving? 19 days. 17 until the movers arrive, should all continue to go as planned.

6. But I still don’t have a lease.

7. Surprised by sun and mild temperatures upon our landing. This makes the return much easier.

8. Go and get the kids. But a hot chocolate from their corner stand. The girls are raising funds for the French patisserie they plan to open up after college.

9. Pizza for dinner.

10. She is already planning her move. I figured as much. We’ll get them there some how. Maybe not right away but in a few more years.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Five

1. 4:36. A little early than needed but I get up anyway.

2. I re-vacuum the bedroom and the top of the stairs before I go. It’s so dark.

3. My stomach is turning and tightening. I know it’s just anxiety. Is the house okay for the appraisal? Will it appraise? Am I going to the right airport? Why is it taking me this way? Oh yes, Midway. There are a lot of cars on the road so early in the morning. How do people do this every day?

4. I’m in between 5N and 5P.

5. I just need a piece of fruit. Why is this so hard?

6. Upgrade. Glad I did because now I have an aisle seat right in the front and I can get to the bathroom with ease which is important since I just drank 2 liters of water. But it’s a long flight and I need to stay hydrated.

7. I stand on the curb waiting for him and daydream about how my next flight to San Francisco will be with the whole family. The five of us will make our way on the airtran carrying two suitcases a piece and everyone will so excited to see the sun and mountains.

8. “Welcome home,” he says.

9. It’s hard not to stare and stare and stare. The mountain tops touch the sky. What do you call the color of the hills?

10. The moon looks big, much bigger than it did in Chicago. I am indeed closer to heaven.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Four

1. I should just go ahead and wake up.

2. Another batch of granola so that he’s full before morning soccer. Fixing glasses with black electrical tape because you can’t get in for an appointment for another week.

3. Find the light.

4. Tidy up the rooms. Eat popcorn with nutritional yeast as a snack before leaving.

5. Oh, no. I should have expected this.

6. I fall asleep in the chair while reading and waiting for someone’s hands to make their way back to my head. This will be worth it. This will be worth it. I won’t ever see her again.

7. A bubble of anxiety at the base of the belly. How is it already Thursday? How is it already time to go again?

8. 6 o’clock. Appraiser is coming tomorrow. Add cleaning to the list.

9. They’re showered and fed and full of m & m’s. I drive them to Naperville to spend the weekend with friends. I feel sad and a little worried but mostly tired. I hug them all and give them kisses. Am I really leaving tomorrow?

10. At least I’ll come back to a clean home. I forgot to eat dinner.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Three

1. The quiet of the dark. But I am not alone for long. The oldest is the first one down and he heads straight to the fireplace.

2. I offer bacon plus whatever carb they can find as a breakfast. I suppose I could have made hash browns too but my mind is too clouded with other things to think of something so easy.

3. What day is it?

4. I wish that it wasn’t this way. But I buy what I need to buy because this is the only place to buy it from.

5. More pants for them. The cooler weather is here to stay and we are woefully under-dressed. I’d thought we would have been gone by now and some school shopping consisted of only summer wear. Rewashing the same two pairs of leggings for her is getting hold. And the biggest one has finally blown out the knees of the pairs of pants he did have.

6. Bright sun.

7. It’s in talking to her that I witness how I dance with my own shadow. I think of the stories that are looping, the incomplete projects, the ways in which I undermine my own success. How am I working with fear right now?

8. Chicken noodle soup to soothe the ache in the back of the throat. The kids think that this version is a little too salty but I’m chuffed at how much it tastes like my childhood. Must not get sick.

9. I like that now the easy choice is the only choice.

10. The Sacred No.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Two

1. What’s the point of an alarm if you’re always waking up before it goes off?

2. I open up the door to feel the cool air and stare at the sky. Oh yes, it’s forecasting season. It’s going to be a very clear day today. I wonder if I’ll be able to read the skies in California like I do here.

3. The sound of owls.

4. Granola. Smoothies. Coffee. Lots of water.

5. The way the stalks of corn shimmy in the wind and the sun. That color. What is the name of that color? And how is it that dead things can also be so alive?

6. Turkey club and butternut squash soup. Chocolate chip cookie in a skillet. There is time for this.

7. I can indeed change insurance. You know you’re an adult when low deductibles excite you.

8. I don’t like that this decision is up to me. I’m afraid of making the wrong choice. Why does the easy choice make me so nervous?

9. A basket full of sweets.

10. 24 days.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-One

1. I can’t fall back asleep. “Death of a Bachelor” on repeat in my head. It’s almost time for him to get up anyway.

2. He leaves in an Uber, a red Chrysler 300. I think that man is the same one who took me to the airport for Fever Dreams. I’m glad that this will be the last time the five of us will have to spend so much time apart. They won’t see him for 7 days. I’m grateful that this is not us every week like it is some other families.

3. I pick up the bedrooms and give the bathrooms a good cleaning. Down in the basement, I light the sage and grab the feather. Corner to corner. When I get upstairs, the kids ask to help. The littlest one takes the bundle and then the feather. He looks so proud of himself. I direct him to the corners of the rooms. Then she asks for a turn. “So this makes everyone feel better?” Yeah, yeah, it kinda does.

4. “It tastes like Jesus on the first day of His resurrection.”

5. The leaves are changing and some are falling from the limbs as the wind gusts. We make our way on the wooded paths. I take her to Big Rock. “Gina took me here once. It’s beautiful back there,” I tell her. We are lost. It will take us another 40 minutes to get back to the visitor center. But its time well spent. 6.5 miles.

6. I’m glad I’m making time for this.

7. I can’t help but mourn the loss of this particular friendship. But I also understand that there is a season for everything. And if, right now, the steps are just not lining up, then maybe it’s best to journey separately.

8. Wasting time during the inspection. Snack buying. Long pant buying (because I honestly thought we were going to be gone before the cold came. Costume browsing. Dinner buying.

9. I eat the rest of his cheeseburger with a knife and fork—and a glass of Malbec.

10. 6:25 and I think I’m ready to call it a night. Shower and then all the laundry while The House on Haunted Hill plays in the background. 25 days to go.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy

1. Frost on the grass.

2. This morning: coffee in Naperville; meet stager to drop off left-behind artwork; see if the eye doctor can fix her glasses; mentally prepare for a week of solo parenting and travel.

3. Amber light filling the foyer.

4. I make the waffle mix, macerate some strawberries, and melt butter. Coffee and a big glass of water.

5. The drive into Naperville is easy and quick. I find a parking spot right in fight of the hotel.

6. Chemex for me. She brings the baby and its so good to her and him in the flesh. We catch up on life and the challenges of motherhood. I’ve had this conversation a lot this year: how do we navigate these shifts in identity? In life? Where is there room to grieve lost ideals and dreams? No one tells you that motherhood is lonely, too.

7. They’re diverting traffic through the neighborhood. Must be an accident.

8. I go out to clip some rosemary. I probably ought to pull out the rest of these plants.

9. The sizzle of the pot roast in dutch oven.

10. Tomorrow from 3:30-5:30.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy

1. Frost on the grass.

2. This morning: coffee in Naperville; meet stager to drop off left-behind artwork; see if the eye doctor can fix her glasses; mentally prepare for a week of solo parenting and travel.

3. Amber light filling the foyer.

4. I make the waffle mix, macerate some strawberries, and melt butter. Coffee and a big glass of water.

5. The drive into Naperville is easy and quick. I find a parking spot right in fight of the hotel.

6. Chemex for me. She brings the baby and its so good to her and him in the flesh. We catch up on life and the challenges of motherhood. I’ve had this conversation a lot this year: how do we navigate these shifts in identity? In life? Where is there room to grieve lost ideals and dreams? No one tells you that motherhood is lonely, too.

7. They’re diverting traffic through the neighborhood. Must be an accident.

8. I go out to clip some rosemary. I probably ought to pull out the rest of these plants.

9. The sizzle of the pot roast in dutch oven.

10. Tomorrow from 3:30-5:30.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Nine

1. I’m stirring. It must be almost time to get up. Yes. It’s 5:16.

2. Fill the water bottle. They will have cereal this morning so that I can make a new menu plan for the week. What will be the easiest to do?

3. I fill the week with chicken dishes, a pot roast, one soup. This should get us through the week with relative ease. Nothing fancy or interesting, just food I know all of us will eat and get full on.

4. Sixteen 6-foot tall trees in front of the neighbor’s driveway. I tell them that this is what we what have done too if we had stayed. Just build a fence with trees. A beautiful, natural border. She asks me how the showings are going. I tell her that we sold it this week. There are smiles and congratulations and good lucks.

5. Holding pattern.

6. We sit down and scroll through to find houses to look at for next weekend. I just hope that we like this particular area in person as much as we do online. I do a little googling. It’s just your standard suburb, safe and with good schools. This is just phase one. Let’s just get ourselves there.

7. The littlest one and I settle in to watch Twilight Zone aka take a nap.

8. I wake up to the sound of the smoke detector going off. Chicken fajitas.

9. We finish the night with “Sing” and bowls of buttered popcorn. Nutritional yeast for me. They don’t know what they’re missing out on. Sleepy-time tea with echinacea and Vitamin C because I can feel an itch at the back of the throat.

10. Crack the window. I love the bite of fall air.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Eight

1. Frost on the rooftops. This means it’s almost time for morning coffee by the fire.

2. She’s been asking for scones. I set out the ingredients and get to work. Once again reminded that having my hands in dough grounds me.

3. I am washing my hands at the sink and look up to see not one, not two, but five deer. Five of them. The littlest said he saw five deer last week. And now I’ve seen them too. I watch as they disappear into the thicket.

4. The foyer fills with light and I bask in it for just a moment.

5. Straighten the rooms and begin to collect the stager’s accessories.

6. I stop in the Target to see if I can find a sparkling water to replace on a potential buyer took. I walk the aisles and see the Thanksgiving decorations and my eyes begin to tear up. I’ll be gone before Thanksgiving.

7. I go from room to room and collect the rest of the the stager’s accessories and start collecting them on the kitchen island. My eyes begin to water again. It’s just a release of this stress.

8. I walk around the house with Steve from the moving company, telling him what will be going, and what will not, so he can give me an updated quotes. My eyes water again.

9. We finally get to celebrate together.

10. I tell him that I’m not that excited because I’m just tired from all of the anxiety. But I am grateful to be done with this part. Well, almost. We’re not done. We’re in the process of clearing this step.

10.1 I hate to call for favors. I hate to ask for help. I had to ask for so much help during the last move. And the move before that. He reminds me that people want to help. I feel like I don’t do enough to earn the help. What am giving back in return for all of these favors I am requesting? Or maybe this is just the nature of friendship. Maybe in a good and true friendship, there is no keeping score; you give what you have and you lean on one another in different ways.

10.2 I buy a plane ticket for next weekend. It’s time to pick a new home.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Seven

1. Only a solid 3 hours of sleep. But he has soccer this morning which means we’re both up and at ‘em.

2. Cereal and milk is about all I can handle. I toss a few grapes in my mouth. Still dazed.

3. The kitchen is filled with the smell of dried thyme. I pick the thin branches and thumb off the leaves into the wooden bowl.

4. One day I’ll get over the fear of sharing good news. What is that about? Being scared to share something you’re excited about?

5. The wind is whipping and the sun is so bright. Leaves blowing off the trees. Emerald green grass.

6. Sausage, potatoes, kale, cream, chicken stock.

7. “Clarity about what matters provides clarity about what does not.” - Deep Work

8. I had forgotten about the crack of this crust, the airy crumb, the chewiness.

9. I ask him to make brownies with me while the big kids are at intramurals. He is happy to oblige per usual. I crack the shell for him and squeezes just a little too hard and gets white all over his fingers.

10. Feathers in the window. Light reflecting off the bells. I look for the deer. I love the light in this home. But I’m ready to go.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Six

1. 4:46 am. There’s no sense in me going back to sleep now. Plus it gives me a few more minutes to get the last bit of recycling out and the potatoes started.

2. I walk her back to bed and tell her to get some more rest. Maybe I can get another hour alone before she’s up for good.

3. I gather the tiny peppers from my neighbor and diced them up for the potatoes. Home grown things just smell so different than their store-bought version. They just smell and taste more like themselves.

4. Twisted stomach. I go through the bookcase and dig out the books that I no longer want. There are only a handful. My eyes scan the shelves…Shakespeare, Munro, Carver, McCarthy, Williams, Austen, Dickens. One day I’ll have a room just for books.

5. I understand my mother’s point of view. I understand why she wants to just stay out of it for now.

6. The line at the DMV is pleasantly short.

7. Fighting fatigue. I dump the laundry on the bed and get to work.

8. Here comes the rain. The sound of it. The way it beats its way through the screens and streaks the glass.

9. But now I don’t know how to feel. I just know that there’s more to do.

10. Time to start the next volume.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Five

1. Up before the alarm. It’s so dark but I know it’s almost time. 

2. Can’t stop thinking.  

3. The kitchen is dark and quiet and so clean. This is the best part of the showings.  

4. Sun, glorious sun. Rectangles of it landing on the chalkboard wall and on the floor. It’s the really golden kind of light that emanates on a warm day. This is probably the last of the warm days. 

5. When I return I will need to harvest almost everything.  

6. You can’t not be happy around a happy baby.

7. Sitting on the couch talking life. Watching the light change through the windows. Shadows on the rocking chairs.  

8. Nerves. 

9.  Basin full of water to rinse all the herbs. I managed to grab all of the thyme, a good amount of sage, and all of the oregano. I’ll harvest the rosemary tomorrow. What will I do with this handful of okra? More peppers. Roast them and pack them in oil? Who knows. Just gratitude for the abundance. 

10. Waiting.  

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Four

1. A Monday that feels like a Sunday. Grateful for another day without the crush of places to be.

2. I just need to finish this proposal. I look up words to make sure that they are what I want them to be.

3. 6:30-7:30pm. Great. Looks like we’re going to Longhorn tonight.

4. Now to hold myself together. To keep faith but to not get too excited. But this feels a little different. A lot different. Just need to finish this proposal so that I can start cleaning.

5. Blast the Panic At The Disco.

6. But all the women in me are tired. And that’s because our culture has not set us up to thrive or to honor our humanity. How does one be against the game and yet play enough of it to find the resources to subvert it?

7. Action breeds clarity.

8. I should have known it was going to be a mediocre meal when we stepped in front of the hostess stand and it was sticky.

9. Mediocre Malbec.

10. They’re still there.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Three

1. I can’t sleep any longer so I might as well get up.

2. I hear the XBOX turn on and know it’s one of the boys. This time the oldest. I have to tell him no more Fort Nite videos on YouTube. I really hate this contraption.

3. Dark, dark, dark. I’ll make the waffle batter and the bacon and then, maybe it would be a good morning for a long walk with a thermos of tea.

4. It’s still drizzling but the coolness of the air feels good. I wear the obnoxiously yellow rain coat and converse. I should probably upgrade myself to a proper walk/run shoe.

5. 7 white cranes. The flapping of the ducks’ wings against the water sending ripples everywhere. Goldenrod bent over from the weight of the rain. It’s so quiet.

6. “Water is not a resource, it is the source of life.”

7. 6,500 steps in the prevailing weight of gray.

8. Salted Caramel Pavlova.

9. Eat the damn fruit. Sunni reminds me to honor my desires, to seek out the pleasures, to stop ignoring what’s gnawing at my heart.

10. Lists up on lists upon lists.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Two

1. I sleep in just long enough to feel rested but not like I lost the morning.

2. Shower. Linen pants. Thin tee. I’ll clean first and get the laundry started. Ginger tea on the stove.

3. I find a lighter and set the sage, the hawk feather, malas, and the bowl from Jennette on the desk and then sit to meditate.

4. The smoke is thick. I start in the basement. I waft the smoke into the corners of every room and pray for peace, patience, and the return of good energies.

5. Another headache pressing against the back of the skull. I try to finish reading the cookbook anyway to distract myself. No, I should just close my eyes.

6. My miso is still simmering on the stove. I eat a bowl of chili. He’s right: the cinnamon. It's a surprisingly tasty addition. This might be the new chili standard in our home.

7. Bed and reading. Ginger and lemon tea. So many thoughts.

8. He’s worried about me.

9. Chicken Marsala. Pinot Noir for me and Rose for him. Brownies from a box. I promised her that tomorrow we’ll make the salted caramel pavlovas. I’m looking forward to that.

10. I write up the newsletter and schedule it for the morning. I haven’t written one in so long. I remember I got sick and then I got side-tracked by life. But, as I was telling her on the phone the other day, I feel like what will be best for my sanity is to get back to work. Just work like everything is normal, even though it’s not. To continue to fill my days with new projects and with a focus on the things I love doing instead of fretting everything that isn’t happening. And like he said, if the thing we’re most stressed out about is this house and this move, then we really are doing quite well considering.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-One

1. Dream: I’m in the back room and the manager is there with me. She’s upset because I was late for my shift but then starts talking about a medical problem her niece has. I explain to her what the medical condition is. She asks me if I like what I’m doing here—folding clothes and opening fitting rooms—and I say, “no.” “Then why are you here? Get the fuck out of here.” I wake up.

2. But she didn’t say it to be mean. She said it because I clearly was meant to do other things. And if I didn’t want to be there, then I needed to go and do something else.

3. The Napa cabbage is too wilted for me to work with now. It’s limp and has lost its color. I set it aside.

4. It’s just the two of us at the table eating baked potatoes for lunch. He’s brushing his hair. I think of him on the day we brought him home, swaddled up in a blanket. My baby. The first one. Not a baby any more.

5. I am wearing heels and I feel like I should feel taller than him.

6. Okay. I’m ready for the grayness to go away now. It was cute the first couple of days.

7. Queer Eye bonus episode of Nailed It.

8. Just the two of us in the car. I can hear her turning pages. “It’s much smoother in the middle.” This makes me laugh.

9. Pork tacos, a margarita, conversation, and laughter. Silly daughters. This is good medicine.

10. One more stop for a glass of wine and a few laughs. More good medicine. Tomorrow I’ll make a dashi and smudge the house.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty

1. His door is opening. It’s way too early for him to be away.

2. Whispy clouds layered into a sky the color of pink lemonade.

3. I take my shawl and a cup of tea to the alcove. The sun is in my face. I close my eyes and lower my head and feel the heat. It’s the most perfect kind of fall morning.

4. I buy the magic stamps. These will be perfect for the little gifts we’re mailing to the Fever Dreamers.

5. I keep checking Instagram. This is not what I wanted to do.

6. Laundry and spooky stories. Hot tea and rest. Headache pulsing behind the left eye.

7. So much sun.

8. No news is sometimes good news.

9. Silhouettes of trees against pale blue and green skies.

10. I just can’t think anymore.