Ten.Five Hundred & Fourteen

1.  Today.

2. So glad I made them get cereal for breakfast. Also, who doesn’t like a bowl of Kix once in a while?

3. They are so tired.  

4. They can play on the playground before school starts.  

5. She might be one of the few 3rd grade girl who extends her hand out for a shake when introducing herself to another kid. 

6. Displaced. They say it so nonchalantly. It most be normal here. But I hope he can be at the home school with his siblings soon. 

7. Oh, but there really is no hot water coming through this valve. 

8. “Nice house, bad plumbing,” he says slowly with a Japanese accent.  

9. I’m a little early but really it looks like I’m right on time. I’m worried that I’m doing this wrong. I’m worried that they didn’t have a good day. I’m worried that someone will feel forgotten. Here and then there and then back here again. I can do this. I’m crying a little bit in the car.  

10. A car full of happy children. And maybe I’m crying a little bit again.  

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirteen

1. Scones.

2. The lemons are still turning yellow. I don’t understand how any of it works but the fruit is still ripening.

3. That moment when you eat your own cooking and are amazed. Why are these scones so particularly light and fluffy?

4. The four of us arrive at the school. The two women at the desks seem friendly enough. There isn’t enough room for all three of them here. This makes me a little nervous.

5. I let them pick out the foods they think they’ll need for lunch this week. Because now it’s time to get back to school. No one seems to be worried. They aren’t excited but they aren’t nervous either.

6. All of the linens are finally clean again.

7. We walk down to the park with a few basketballs. It’s quiet. School is not out yet but there is a small gathering of moms and children at the park. It’s clear enough to see the hills and the turbines.

8. The leaves are red, so red.

9. I still love this succulent surrounded by white rock.

10. The anger isn’t anger. Fear, maybe. Disappointment, maybe.

Ten.Five Hundred & Twelve

1. The sound of heat blowing through the vents.

2. More sweet potatoes in the blue bowl.  

3. The sun is coming up and I remember what she said about making space for myself. I go to the garage door and drag the iron chairs to the front alcove. I find the cushions in another box and attach them to the chairs.

4. Needs something else. 

5. I can still hear the screaming. 

6. They don’t like that they touch while sitting in the back seat.  

7. The sun feels so warm. The heat is pulsing through the black shirt. Yes. 

8. Sandwiches and chips overlooking the valley. They keep arguing over who gets to stand on what rock. 

9. He asks me if I want anything from Bouchon too. I realize that I can come whenever I want. So, no, nothing today, because I can always come back tomorrow. And I almost can’t believe it.

10. I keep forgetting about the time change. 

Ten.Five Hundred & Eleven

1. I start to worry about what I’m going to do after she leaves. I’m already feeling the ache. The ache of loneliness. 

2. But I remember that this is also good. This is a good feeling. This is what I wanted to happen from me moving here. I know my people are here. She will leave today but others will come in the future. 

3. Where do you feel full? 

4. Hugs all around.  

5. Paperwork. I write the same things over and over again. I don’t have a paystub with our new address. Maybe a bank statement will work? I will call Monday morning. I just need them back in school.  

6. Robin and I catch up for a bit. We share realizations that have set in since our last conversation. Also, I’m really ready for liberated lines again.  

7. Yelling and the sound of water coming out with speed and pressure.  

8. Thank you for being so kind and all but can you do what you need to do in order to stop the water from flooding the kitchen? 

9. So much water this week. There is a metaphor and a lesson in this.  

10. Sun making my legs warm. I don’t even care right now. Because I’m warm. I am in the light. I am light.  

10.1 The root is miscommunication. No one is hearing the same thing. No one is saying the same thing. No one remembers it exactly the same way. How do we lace compassion and forgiveness through the gaps?

10.2 Actually, Napa does sound like a good idea.  

Ten.Five Hundred & Ten

1. Quiet house. Captivated by twinkle lights. 

2. I think it’s rain but it’s actually the sound of the heat pushing through the vents.  

3. The smell of bacon.  

4. A bowl of sweet potatoes for breakfast and then coffee. I play memory at their feet. 

5. We try to find a coffee shop near by but the only one I know of is closed. And so is the bagel place so to Safeway we go. 

6. Icing for cookies and popcorn for a garland.  

7. I needed this.  

8. They’ve each decided on a shape and they take turn pressing their cookie cutter into the dough. The way they’ve been together is beautiful.  

9. Where is the void?  

10. “Is Ms. Melinda your friend?” “Yes, sweetie. Why do you ask?” “Because they feel like family.” 

10.1 I stand at the kitchen sink for the meditation. Every squeeze of the sponge is some kind of release. Pushing the mop brings me back to my body.  

10.2 I needed this.  

Ten.Five Hundred & Eight

1. 5:30.  

2. A little bit of light is peaking through but it’s weak. I remember that the forecast calls for rain.  

3. Scones. Yes, that’s what will be for breakfast today. All this counter space but yet I feel like there’s no room.  

4. We make a list of the dishes and then I find the platters they’ll go in. It’s the first time in a long time that it’s just the 5 of us for a holiday meal. 

5. But we do have a few guests coming. Hosting them will be a treat. Might make things feel a little more normal.  

6. These are white sweet potatoes. That’s why they looked so weird to me in the store. And still a little lumpy. But I’m committing to this working out. Plus, I don’t think you’ll reallly taste a difference once they’re topped with sugar and nuts.  

7. Apple crisp and pound cakes for dessert.  

8. Now I feel the pain in my heels.  

9. If your marriage can survive the assembly of bunk-beds then it’s a good one.  

10. Green. 

Ten.Five Hundred & Nine

1. Oh yes. This feels good. Awake in the darkness before everyone else. 

2. Oh. Not everyone. He asks me for a fried egg without the yolk. I laugh to myself. A fried egg white. Ok, then.  

3. I think about what else needs to be done before she arrives: a little bit of laundry, vacuum the floors, relax.  

4. But this is one of the few times I’m not a big ball of anxiety having someone come to stay.  

5. I know he still thinks it’s weird how my relationships with people from the internet become a real thing, with me staying in their homes and me offering my home to all of them.

6. Time is passing so slowly.  

7. She asks me about my space. And this is sometimes what you need: someone to come in and show/remind you that you need to make room for yourself. Someone who puts voice to the very things you have been thinking about. And then you realize that it’s not just your imagination. That this is something that needs attention.  

8. I confess that I don’t know what to do. She says I can just be.  

9. Impromptu double blind wine tasting. We both have good taste.

10. The two of them drawing side by side at the kitchen table.  

10.1 Tired, but in a good way. Maybe “Satisfied” is more appropriate.

Ten.Five Hundred & Nine

1. Oh yes. This feels good. Awake in the darkness before everyone else. 

2. Oh. Not everyone. He asks me for a fried egg without the yolk. I laugh to myself. A fried egg white. Ok, then.  

3. I think about what else needs to be done before she arrives: a little bit of laundry, vacuum the floors, relax.  

4. But this is one of the few times I’m not a big ball of anxiety having someone come to stay.  

5. I know he still thinks it’s weird how my relationships with people from the internet become a real thing, with me staying in their homes and me offering my home to all of them.

6. Time is passing so slowly.  

7. She asks me about my space. And this is sometimes what you need: someone to come in and show/remind you that you need to make room for yourself. Someone who puts voice to the very things you have been thinking about. And then you realize that it’s not just your imagination. That this is something that needs attention.  

8. I confess that I don’t know what to do. She says I can just be.  

9. Impromptu double blind wine tasting. We both have good taste.

10. The two of them drawing side by side at the kitchen table.  

10.1 Tired, but in a good way. Maybe “Satisfied” is more appropriate.

Ten.Five Hundred & Seven

1. I slept another full hour past the alarm.  

2. Towels and pillow cases. The woman working the self-checkout is extremely patient and helpful.  

3. John Mayer Live album from so many years ago. I’m back in my red Dodge Intrepid in The Cook Out drive-through.  

4. It’s hard to sing with a mask on.  

5. Toilet overflowing. Waves of blue water and tissue rolling onto the floor. The panic.  

6. I clean the kids’ bathroom and then mine. Toilet overflows again. Panic.

7. At the table, hunched over a bowl of chicken tortilla soup, I declare that I’m done plunging other people’s poop.  

8. I am now mopping the floor. I spend the majority of my time cleaning up after others. Sometimes it feels like a waste of life. How do I shift this workload?  

9. But always return to gratitude.  

10. He leaves. I finish folding towels still hot from the drier, vacuum our bedroom floor and then smudge each room before hopping in the shower. 

10.1 Solitaire and a glass of Hahn Pinot Noir while the sauce thickens.  

10.2 Schramsberg sparkling wine. Conversations about what makes us uncomfortable. 

Ten.Five Hundred & Five

1. Up before the alarm. Must find a coffeemaker.

2. Just enough reception to make a quick post and scroll through to look for important emails. How dependent we are for cellular and WiFi service. The plus side is less screen time for everyone.  

3. Make a note to remember that I don’t have to get on Highway 4 to get to Target or Trader Joe’s. 

4. Why are trash cans so hard to find?  

5. The smoke is hanging low like fog. It makes the morning more eery than it needs to be. 

6. I bundle up some twinkle lights and stick them beside her bed.  

7. Laundry.  

8. The rootedness that comes from doing the ordinary.  

9. I should probably go to the store tomorrow. Just get those few little things out of the way before Wednesday.  

10. Still doesn’t feel real.  

Ten.Five Hundred & Four

1. Alarm. 

2. Washer and Dryer will be here around 7:30. You know you’re an adult when appliance delivery is the highlight of your week. 

3. I should check to see if they got the fax. I’ll call Monday.

4. The two of us on the sofa by the window trying to squeeze out a bar of service. I just need to order this bunk bed.  

5. I don’t see any more lemons on the ground.

6. So tired. I confirm that there’s nothing else on the agenda today. Back to bed. 

7. He wakes me up for lunch. I go back to bed.  

8. He wakes me up for dinner. I walk into the kitchen and am hit with a wave of nausea. On the couch I go with eyes closed.  

9. This worries me a bit.  

10. They all crawl into the bed to watch Star Wars. I turn on my side and fall fast asleep. 

Ten.Five Hundred & Three

1. Getting closer. 

2. The patting down of coffee into the cylinder in a quiet kitchen. Another very needed grounding.  

3. Maybe it’s chilly because of the window. I grab Emergent Strategy and crawl into the corner of the couch. Think blue blanket over my feet. Hot coffee and pencil in one hand.  

4. Meal plan. Oh yeah, next week is Thanksgiving. I need a turkey. And cranberry sauce. The oldest wants extra cans just for himself. 

5. The kids ask us why other people aren’t wearing masks but we are. I tell them that not everyone understands how bad the air is. That they think walking to and from the car won’t matter.  

6. I want to be like Oprah, “You get a mask! And you get a mask!” It’s the populations already at risk who suffer the most.  

7. Chili.  

8. All the boxes in the laundry room. No reception and no WiFi so I can only listen to Amy Winehouse and Beyoncé.  

9. I tell him that by Sunday I’ll have more time to snuggle.

10. Hands so rough from all of the cardboard and paper and tape. Rough from the work of change. 

Ten.Five Hundred & Two

1. The tiniest bit of morning light coming through the slats in the blinds.  

2. The kids are already awake, bowls filled with dry cereal, watching Hocu Pocus on the computer.  

3. Coffee in the corner of the couch. Now it feels like home. 

4. No reception.  

5. I try to send her a picture and then a comment but all she gets is the comment. Context is everything.

6. All the boxes and frames are gone from the living room. Chairs arranged. The space still feels too large and a little empty but it’s good enough for now.  

7. The Christmas tree will go in that corner.  

8. I could use this corner or that corner. Or even that corner.  

9. The In-n-Out is too far away for lunch so I stop on the Safeway. The lettuce is so green and the bell peppers are glowing red and orange. I touch the persimmons and then stop myself. I’ll wait for the farmer’s market on Saturday.  

10. “How far are you from Antioch?” 

10.1 What will the sky look like once the smoke has cleared?  

10.2 When was the last time I did my morning pages?

10.3 Finallt a dinner at home. Skirt steak and chimichurri with roasted potatoes and roasted broccoli. Cloth napkins. Leftover Côte-du-Rhône. Music from the speaker.  

Ten.Five Hundred

1. Sore back.  

2. Three small hot chocolates and a tea while we wait. The lobby is full of business travelers, not families like us.  

3. The first morning I haven’t really seen the sun.  

4. 816. Oh, that’s Joe. He is done with his job in Davis and can deliver in 1.5 hours.  

5. The smoke here is much thicker than where we were up north.  

6. Why are they using flares? 

7. The boxes are coming in, I’m trying to hear for the numbers, and the kids are screaming, and I still don’t know where I want anything to go.  

8. There’s no cell reception. 

9. Pizza again. I can’t find the box with the forks so that I can eat my salad.  

10. Popcorn and wine for dinner. Finally home.  

Ten.Five Hundred & One

1. Wow. 500 already? Approximately? I may be off a day or two on either end. No matter. 

2. Must get the kitchen done today.  

3. “Hey, Love.” Bingo. That’s how you get your 4.8 on Google reviews. What woman doesn’t want a handsome man calling her “Love” first thing in the morning when she orders her bagel?  

4. Also the coffee is really good. Also, the bagel.

5. I said that the temps are low. She tells me she woke up to 16 degrees.  

6. No one has ever really cleaned the surface of these cabinets. I want to not see the dirt. Because if I didn’t see it, then I wouldn’t feel so compelled to clean it. I wish I wasn’t like this sometimes.

7. We go to the dollar store for contact paper but end up with boxes of goldfish and a coloring book too.  

8. Still not even close to being done.  

9. Chianti’s. The best food we’ve had in a week as we’ve maneuvered through suburbs. Barolo and Gorgonzola Chicken. Osso bucco for him. 

10. I decide to power through because I want to make my own coffee in my own kitchen and I just need to be done.  

10.1 I can barely keep my eyes open but there are just three more boxes.  

10.2 The sound of glass shattering against the tile. Need a new coffee maker.  

10.3 Midnight. The pale yellow glow from the light over the stove. Mission completed.  

Ten.Four Hundred & Ninety-Nine

1. Finally slept in.

2. Crispy potatoes, broccolini, pesto, parmesan, scrambled eggs in a bowl. Large coffee.

3. Where to next? Fairfield for two nights. Maybe we can squeeze in a trip to Boxcar? Bodega Bay?

4. 816. Oh, that’s Joe. “I’m in Nevada now. I’ll be there Wednesday morning.” Relief. Only two more nights in the hotel. What else do I need before we move in? Contact paper, cleaning supplies, order the washer and dryer, register the kids on Thursday.

5. Sand everywhere in the trunk.

6. They take off their socks and play tag in the empty rooms. I consolidate and repack one back for the next two nights of hotel stay. Now on to Fairfield.

7. The drive feels shorter than the 50 minutes it says it will take.

8. I forgot the bag.

9. Quick pizza and a Target run: underwear and a night shirt for me, wine for him.

10. Two more days. I can make it two more days.

Ten.Four Hundred & Ninety-Eight

1. 4:30 am.

2. They are still sleeping. There might be something to these blackout shades.

3. He tells me I’m going to run out of water before I even order. I say something about it being so dry. That we’ve moved here from Chicago. “Welcome!” he says, then adds that he moved to Oregon because it’s gotten so crowded here. “I went to a three-room school in San Ramon. Now….” I understand what he means.

4. Donut Wheel for simple glazed donuts before we decide to head down to Monterey. Today is a good day for a drive and a visit the aquarium.

5. Membership because holy cow the prices. Plus it gives us an excuse to come back at least one more time within the next 365 days.

6. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the ocean.

7. I think they take all this beauty for granted.

8. 1985 Antinori Tignanello. A celebratory bottle in La Bicyclette. Fig, gorgonzola, walnut pizza. So cute, but so crowded. If there’s an off-season, I’ll come back then

9. Hot pink sunset. An awesome sight but I know the spectacular color is because of the smoke and the fires.

10. I think about what it means to be a better steward of the land I am coming to inhabit. How do I wish to be in relationship with this space?

Ten.Four Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. I don’t know what time it is but I know it’s early. Too early to be awake. 

2. Tossing and turning while trying to practice some breathing to help me fall asleep.  

3. The sound of splashing water on the concrete. The feeling of the coldness setting into my hands. 

4. TSA pre-check.  

5. She’s from Rockford but California has been home for 40 years.  

6. No wi-fi. 

7. I’m just so tired.  

8. In the back is an orange or grapefruit tree, a bird of paradise plant, something else I can’t yet name. They love the house. I am relieved. The patio table was left. There will dinners outside soon.  

9. We eat a big lunch/dinner. Artichoke dip ad Gorgonzola and pesto ravioli and a glass of Pinot Noir from Santa Lucia Highlands. I remember how much it’s going to be to have access to so many other Californian wines. 

10. Costco. 

10.1 CBD gel on the temples and the neck and my arm.  

10.2 5:30 and it’s bed time for me. 

Ten.Four Hundred & Ninety-Four

1. 2:37 am.

2. Drink water. It is the new moon. An auspicious choice to move on this day.

   3. I wake the children and make them finish yesterday’s bagels. The oldest isn’t hungry. I don’t blame him.  

   4. It’s really cold.  

   5. I order 4 large coffees.  “Four large coffees? What happened?”

   6. I turn back to wave one more time. He tells me to stop looking back.   

   7. So cold. 

   8. My leggings are gray from dust and dirt. I wipe down all the baseboards and cobwebs that hid behind the larger pieces of furniture. I see new scuff marks and worry the new owners will notice them. There is no way to fully erase the evidence of living. 

   9. I feel something warm running down my cheek. I look in the mirror to see a weeping gash on the side of my eye. I walk out of the bathroom and tell him that I think I need to get stitches.  

   10. The two of them are crying and that makes me cry.  

   10.1 75 Wine Sauvignon Blanc under the covers. My head and eye still hurt. I need more sleep. 

Ten.Four Hundred & Ninety-Three

1. 3 am.

2. Bagel run. Don’t forget the plastic knives for butter.

3. Still sick to the stomach. I think to myself, “This is a thing for you now, isn’t it? This is the new way your body manifests stress.”

4. Weak coffee.

5. And like that, the weight is lifted and we’re leaning back into relief. No more stomach pains.

6. This is the part that I’m actually dreading the most.

7. I take a bit of cake and grab his hand. We did it.

8. There is always more than you think there is.

9. Arepas dropped off at the front door.

10. Midnight folding. Frasier. To-do list for tomorrow. Weak eyes. I can sleep on the plane.