Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-Seven

1. Spring.

2. Quiet moments alone in the kitchen.

3. We run down the plan for the day. Woods. Lunch. Beach. Golden Gate Bridge. Baseball practice for the boys.

4. Middle seat all the way in the back. A different point of view. Holding hands with the two youngest. The softness of youth.

5. This drive always feels harrowing.

6. The way the light breaks through the trees. Sun dappled stream. The sound of water bubbling by.

7. Tomato soup at the park cafe instead. It’s just as good as what I had at Long Meadow Ranch but without the drizzle of infused oil.

8. I hadn’t intended on getting my feet wet but here I am with white foam breaking across the toes. The coolness of the water is refreshing. She falls trying to escape the water. The sound of the waves crashing. I could have sat there all day.

9. The colors of the bay. The city skyline. I remember that we live here now.

10. Yes, ‘85 was indeed a good birth year.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-Six

1. What’s taking me so long to get out of the bathroom?

2. Bacon, unwrap the banana bread, a full pot of coffee, some eggs.

3. I understand the anxiety of driving around on the unknown roads.

4. Little breaks from the rain driving up to the valley. I wonder where she is?

5. Even in the rain it’s still so beautiful. Every time I think I don’t want to be here, I visit again and then I do.

6. Novicium. The smell of a barrel room. The crunch of the gravel. The cheese. Castelvetrano olives. Olive oil. Crunchy bread. Continuum.

7. Long Meadow Ranch. Tomato soup. Cheddar biscuits. Crimson Sin.

8. Opus One. Orchids. 2009 and 2015. Nancy. David. Sun and sun and sun.

9. This is the way it should be done.

10. He bought me a fancy wine key for the exam. Made from french oak barrels. Sides stained with red.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-Five

1. They’re on their first leg.

2. Of course she’s up. We whip up some banana bread. I bet she won’t even eat it even though she’s happy to help. I can’t wait for the coffee and the bread to be done.

3. Now to clean.

   4. My Haunted House.  

   5. He’s sitting in the driveway with salami in his hand waiting for them to arrive.  

   6. Too late for ribs.  

   7. 5 days. Surprisingly calm.  

   8. Laughter. Grayed-over skies. They said the neighbor threw the balls back over the fence. This is way smaller than 1/3 of an acre.  

   9. Wente Riva Ranch Pinot Noir. Excited for Continuum and Opus.  

   10. Milk peel. 

Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-Four

1. I look at myself in the mirror. Confidence. Yes.

2. I set out the toaster, some butter, 5 plates, the cinnamon bread and a cutting board full of fruit. It’s a self-serve kind of morning.

3. Hot coffee. A little pep in my step. Maybe it’s because I know the weather promises sun.

4. Wet feet from morning dew. I can’t tell if he’s nervous. He most likely is. But I think he will have so much fun.

5. How much are the homes over here? I could look at these hills all day.

6. Blue bird. It’s not a blue jay. I saw a picture of it at the museum but now I can’t remember its name.

7. I just have to trust that I know enough of what I need to know.

8. Sore feet. Tank top and a can or sparkling and some sun. Reset. How is the day almost done already?

9. I tell him that she helped me with my cocktail flashcards on the front porch so he can feel free to quiz me. Negroni. Old Fashioned. Martini. Margarita. Mojito. Moscow Mule.

10. Tomorrow.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-Two

1. Just a little more sleep.

2. Bacon and potatoes and coffee and the sun rising up over the trees.

3. I can do this.

4. Frolicking sheep always make me giggle. No hawk on the post today. A few cows right up to the fence.

5. I think of how the neighbors suggested that one day all the hills along Vasco would be planted with grapes within the next 20 years. What a sight that would be.

6. It’s chilly in the shade but I expect everyone to come out for a little bit. The sunshine is abundant. You can’t help but be happy.

7. I’m sure I’ll get my 10,000 steps in today.

8. He wishes me luck on the exam and it warms me but also adds another level of anxiety. I don’t want to disappoint. I don’t want to disappoint myself.

9. But I should be thinking more positively anyway.

10. Qupe Grenache. Chicken kabobs with a side of overwhelm for the upcoming week. I can do hard things.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-One

1. Homemade instant oatmeal. Let’s give it a whirl.

2. Beware the ides of March.

3. No one wants to wake up. Good thing break is coming. Maybe they’ll all catch up on their sleep then.

4. Ok. Just figure out how to get through the next two days. One (two) day(s) at a time.

5. He seats us and then tells us he has a sake that’s not on the menu. We might be the only people ordering bottles of sake in Bentwood.

6. She asks him for permission to talk to me. I mean, she is older and clearly comes from a different generation. I just don’t think anyone has ever asked my husband for his permission to be able to speak to me. She commends me for the patience it must take to have my hair braided. And that it’s beautiful.

7. What is going to be the most important thing in the end?

8. So much sun. Sun. Sun. Sun.

9. Looking at the stars makes me want to write poetry.

10. The smell of smoke. The glow of the coals. Embers. Fire. Grounding.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty

1. Don’t forget the bagels.

2. Everyone is slow to get up. There’s a stool in the middle of the family room. He stumbles out and tells me that he has something to tell me but that his older brother will be mad if he says anything. I tell him that he needs to go ahead and tell me what it was that woke him up so early in the morning.

3. I unplug the Xbox and stick it in a basket in my room.

4. Flashcards and more flashcards. Something about this round of studying feels different. Mainly, my attention. Maybe it’s that I’m passed the point of freaking out. But I can’t tell if I’m actually remembering anything and that feels like a problem.

5. Trust.

6. I just love this drive—especially if I’m a passenger. I sit with my face up to the glass and try to take it all in. Green and gray and blue and white. Black and brown and cream-colored cows. Clusters of orange poppies and purple wildflowers growing along the slopes of the hills.

7. No complaints.

8. The water in the sink keeps rising.

9. Barolo.

10. He asks me what I need and the feeling of overwhelm washes over and I hide under the covers and say that we’ll just talk about it tomorrow. Problem is I don’t have very many more Tomorrows left.

Ten.Six Hundred & Nineteen

1. Oh good, I can open my eyes.

2. He stumbles into the kitchen. One eye is very puffy and sealed shut. We get a warm washcloth to ease it open. Pivoting plans for the day.

3. They look a little weird but maybe they taste OK.

4. These women on the Kaiser phones have just been so kind. If they only knew how their kindness so early in the morning melted away a bit of the stress.

5. He asks me if I can take him to lunch. He wants pizza. I do too.

6. He’s such a good companion.

7. Sun, sun, sun.

8. The doctor suggests he stay out of school tomorrow too. The eye plus the ear infections warrant a bit more rest. I think about the mothers and fathers and caregivers who don’t have a choice and send their sick kids to school. I think about how grateful I am that I can say okay and be home and cuddle and eat. I think about how much of a privilege it is.

9. A thing can be both a burden and a privilege.

10. Tomorrow, I think we’ll go for a bike ride.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eighteen

1. How is it already time to get up?

2. Tuesday. Spring break begins next week. Parents arrive one week from today. Only 12 more days until the exam. Where is all the time going?

3. Lunchables.

4. Nettles and oat straw tea. “Reclaiming Conversation” and seeing her face. Talking life and confidence and courage and hourly rates.

5. Sour gummy worms and sun.

6. I read and start daydreaming about finding a small piece of land where it’s quiet and I feel even closer to the sun.

7. I start to panic and worry that maybe the bus was in some kind of accident. Or maybe the traffic coming back from San Francisco was heavier that expected. San Francisco. They went to San Francisco today. That sounds wild to me. Oh yeah, we live in California.

8. Confidence. Confidence.

9. Can I really do this?

10. Pink eye.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventeen

1. Just remember that the weather report promises sunshine today.

2. Feel. Do.

3. I look over my right shoulder and am blinded by light. The sun looks different here. Which sounds silly to say except it’s true and I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s so bright.

4. Hawk.

5. The silhouette of a solitary cow on the hilltop. The sheep aren’t on this side of the hill today. I giggle and think back to yesterday when I saw what appeared to be sheep frolicking. Frolicking white sheep against green grass and gray rock and blue sky.

6. Sauvignon Blanc.

7. I forgot chicken broth. Now what to do?

8. The kitchen is lit up. I look at my watch. Ok. Let’s see how long it lasts before the sun dips behind the neighbor’s house.

9. Petaluma. I could do Petaluma, I think. Maybe it won’t be here. Maybe we do head up north. I wouldn’t mind being closer to the water. Maybe feel like there’s a little more space. And yet. I also can imagine staying here. I can imagine staying. I can also imagine not ever feeling 100% certain about any choice we make.

10. They still want to be tucked in.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixteen

1. Time has changed.

2. Biscuit with butter and jelly and a cup of coffee. Not much time to read since time has escaped me this morning.

3. Putting it down. I don’t need to carry this.

4. There’s something about the voice. How it gets to this shrieking tone or pitch. It’s distracting.

5. Oh, good. I’m out in the lounge today. I wanted the fresh air today.

6. Here comes the rain. I watch the leaves of the palm trees sway. The sound of rain hitting the overhang. The sound of water in the downspout.

7. There has to be a way to make this run more efficiently.

8. I am always the first to leave but I don’t mind it. I’m the only one with a husband and kids back home.

9. 14 days.

10. No ease. When will it return? How does one invited it back? Must something else go? Must something else change? Is it even truly possible? Is ease also a myth like balance?

Ten.Six Hundred & Fifteen

1. Thin slice of orange sandwiched between clouds and blue sky. Maybe the sun will come out after all.

2. He asks me what the stuff in the bag is. I tell him that it’s Israeli couscous and he should give it a try. Substitute it in where you might usually use rice. More than anything, the kids think it’s fun because it’s shaped like tiny balls.

3. Someone ate the entire box of Lucky Charms and I’m trying not to be mad but I am mad.

4. You know the coffee will be good when you can still see the oils on the beans.

5. “I wish my games were on Sundays so that you could come.” A little stab of mother guilt right as I head out the door to go to work.

6. Everything about his whole vibe is uncomfortable. And then he begins to speak and confirms my intuition. Then he swats away his significant other’s hand and I can feel my heart racing a little bit. I see the embarrassment and shock in her face. I’m suddenly very thirsty.

7. I take a lunch and ask for pictures from the game. Insert more mother guilt. Insert ponderings of alternatives to this. Insert a surge of determination.

8. I feel too tired to be determined.

9. Thoroughbreds hang out with Thoroughbreds.

10. The not-quite-right feeling is lingering. Residual bits from the day. I may need to find new rituals of release after these days with people. Empathy is draining.

Ten.Six Hundred & Fourteen

1. So much light. The time time changes this weekend. I’m so ready for it.  

2. I grab the coat out of my closet. I’d been meaning to get it altered. Navy blue with gold buttons. Another piece of vintage Ralph Lauren found in a heap of clothes. But today he will wear it and pretend to be Robert Livingston. 

3. She says I look fancy.  

4. The young woman is bright and has so much energy. I’m envious of her energy. This is the kind of job you can only do if you’re young.  

5. We head down Vasco. The clouds are making shadows on the hills and the turbines are moving and it doesn’t even look real. It looks like a painting.  

6. Daffodils in the sunlight. Tall grass. Cows looking down on us from the steep pasture. 

7. Something about today. Maybe it was the sight of familiar faces...talking about things all of us know. Being with friends.  

8. This was the kind of week that I needed. A week of speaking and feeling heard. A week of being with others. As much as I fancy myself a homebody, I needed to be present in public spaces.  

9. Too tired to do anything else.  

10. The house is a disaster. I’m going to try not to think about it. I’m going to play word games instead. Run definitions through my head. Hope for the rain to stay away tomorrow.  

Ten.Six Hundred & Thirteen

1. Oh. Maybe it won’t rain today.

2. “Everyone in the car?” I turn around and see two faces. We’re good to go.

3. The cleaning is not going to get done today and I know it won’t and I’m trying to make peace with it.

4. I hear my name and look up and it’s a friendly face. A black face. I am at first surprised and then I remember that this is one of the reasons we came here.

5. “Would you prefer a male or a female?” “Female. And can I ask that she be of color?” “Of course. We can do that.”

6. Fifteen years off and on and I can say that I’ve never had a black therapist. Never. And I’ve looked but rarely was there ever anyone in my area. No one I could get to with ease. But this is why we moved here. I needed to have access to care providers that look like me.

7. We talk about stuckness. She reminds me to not worry about the how but to hold on to the dream.

8. We select dates for May, October, and January. It feels good to commit.

9. She’s there waiting for me.

10. We both gush over our California experiences today. These are the things that happen that affirm our decision to move. The stress of it all has been worth it, even if it is sending me back to therapy to gather resources to help me adjust with this major transition. The good is outweighing everything else and that puts the soul at ease.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twelve

1. The sound of rain dripping from the gutter.

2. Yeah, these really taste good. Not the healthiest but definitely tasty.

3. A crack of sunshine on a cloudy morning. I start to close the garage door and then he yells, “Mom! Mom! What about Nora?!” We laugh. I open the garage door back up and see her standing in the doorway. Oh jeez. Twice in one week I’ve almost forgotten her. Pretty sure she’ll be telling her therapist about this in twenty years.

4. Flashcards.

5. School. She has a stomach ache and a fever.

6. The phone cut out at 4 hours. We’ve been on the phone for 4 hours. We laugh.

7. Now he’s asleep on the sofa. Is he sick too?

8. Tomatoes and garlic roasting in the oven. Rosemary focaccia.

9. He’s still sleeping.

10. Heart chakra oil.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eleven

1. What’s the weather supposed to be today? By the lack of light I’m guessing we’re supposed to get some rain.

2. I’m dubious about the 100% whole wheat blueberry muffins but they look so pretty in the tin that maybe they’ll turn out just fine.

3. Every other building is vacant. There could be so much potential here. I wonder what happened.

4. I’m here is 10 minutes early and send her a text to let her know that I’ve parked. I send another text at 7:01 to let her know that I’m ready whenever she is. At 7:12 I send her a text telling her that I’ll be leaving soon if I don’t hear back from her. She tells me she’ll be there in 15 minutes.

5. There’s a man walking around the parking lot in circles. He may be homeless. The biker dude who’s drinking something on ice asks him if he can buy him a coffee. The maybe-homeless man appreciates the offer but turns him down.

6. I send her a text at 7:58 telling her I’m going home.

7. I soothe my annoyance and disappoint with a few bunches of ranunculus and eucalyptus, Israeli couscous and a wedge of Parmesan.

8. Tired eyes.

9. Hot oil on the tender skin of my wrist.

10. Ready for it to be over.

Ten.Six Hundred & Ten

1. Biscuits for them. Hard-boiled eggs with pickled beet horseradish.

2. The rocking chair has just the right amount of creakiness.

3. The trowel. We make a u-turn and dig around in the garage for a trowel. A trowel.

4. I do love seeing her face. October will come soon but I wish it was sooner. We’re coming up on a year since the last gathering. This next one…I’m so ready for the next one.

5. So many beautiful things and yet I feel so out of place. But yes, please. This high-waisted jumper. And an ivory leather sofa.

6. Contradictions.

7. Chateau d’Yquem. Yes, more of this please.

8. Surprisingly good.

9. See you in the morning. See you in the morning? Are you sure? What I want to say is that I’m 99.9% sure that she will see me in the morning. But I also know that there is a chance that I might not. Of course I wouldn’t dare say that out loud but I always think it. I sincerely do hope I see you again in the morning. And I hope the day I don’t doesn’t come too soon.

10. How do I get Moira Rose’s wardrobe?

Ten.Six Hundred & Nine

1. It’s time for me to wake up.

2. I do have whole wheat flour but I don’t feel like baking today. Donuts it is.

3. Hot coffee and an old-fashioned. Gray skies.

4. Wash.

5. My arms are tired from reaching up over my head. Hair days.

6. Only 1/3 of the book left. I should be finished by Wednesday. Then it’s flash cards for the the next 18 days after that. I can do this.

7. I block out the times of day that I know I’m busy doing other things. The sound of the pencil gliding back and forth across the paper as I shade in the rectangles. The way the pencil moves across the paper makes me nostalgic.

8. Murder on the Orient Express. He says Poirot’s peculiarities are too similar to mine. Poirot says something about how his ability to see the flaws in things makes his life miserable. I guess we are indeed similar.

9. Pretzel salt in my sheets. We ought to find a better solution for movie night.

10. The hill in the background look familiar. Even though it’s in black and white, I can tell it must have been filmed in late spring or summer.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eight

1. I think I hear rain.

2. I am not opposed to a slow day at work. I like it best when I get to spend more one-on-one time with guests.

3. Now if only I could get my nose to stop running.

4. Why are we always arguing over eating fruit?

5. Today’s intention: honest connection; don’t take anything personally.

6. The rain. It will be a slow start to the day.

7. I surprise myself with what I know.

8. He hugs me. He smells a little bit like cigarette smoke. His Boston accent is endearing. He’s brought his mother-in-law who looks like she might be 80-something. She tells me about the first time she got buzzed on alcohol was just a few years ago.

9. Dipping in and out of the fog as I navigate the hills on the way home. The road is always the same but every night it looks a little different. In some ways it doesn’t seem real.

10. Growth.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seven

1. How is it already March?

2. Mental list of things to do and not to do. The “not-to-do” list is feeling a little long.

3. I try the store again, this time, moving more slowly. Remembering that patience is required in everything.

4. “Right on,” he says. That’s how I know I’m in California.

5. I fold six loads of laundry in the quiet. Head still heavy from congestion. I’ve been sick in some fashion for almost three weeks now.

6. 22 days.

7. He didn’t get the order right. I really wanted that chicken enchilada. And I really wanted that asada taco. But at least the margarita was good.

8. Sleep. The body needs more rest.

9. I had forgotten how visually stunning this movie is. The writing is not the best but the film is gorgeous.

10. Work tomorrow. I do hope his game is rained out so that I won’t have to miss his very first one.