Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-Seven
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Someone came in here again last night.
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Bacon and hash browns and coffee, oh my.
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I don’t think an alarm would help anyway. I’d still have to go in there to get him up and out.
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They ask if they can walk home from school. I hesitate but then agree. As long as they stick together it should be fine, right?
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Children are expensive.
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I reread through my answers and her responses and I see myself so clearly. I see that I am still punishing myself for what didn’t happen. Still shaming myself for things that happened almost 15 years ago. It’s a wonder any of us can persist. We carry so much with us.
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No cloud in the sky. The sound of the palm trees rustling. I didn’t know it got so breezy here. But then again, we are in a valley.
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Navy blue cashmere.
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“We can walk home every day. That way you can nap!” I laugh. She is serious. I take them up on the offer. Besides, the walking is good for them. And, gosh. They’re going to remember me as being perpetually tired. It is true. I am always tired.
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Post dinner glass of wine outside. No dogs barking. The glow of sunset on the houses. One dove perched on the roof’s peak.
Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-Six
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Let’s make it easy .
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There they are. I count six of them on the patio, slowly but surely making their way over the rough concrete.
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There’s already light peeking through. This makes me happy.
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We try to walk a path that’s mostly in the sun which means we’re walking a route that we’ve never done before, even though some of the streets are the same. It’s funny how the world can look completely different when you change just one thing.
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What makes the snail trails glitter?
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He asks her if she knows what her name means. We confess that we Googled it because we found it so interesting. It’s nice to have a place where we can be regulars.
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if I fall asleep right now I’ll never get back up.
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What a beautiful day for a baseball game.
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He just tries so hard. And that’s the blessing of him having an older. He wants so badly to be like him that he works twice as hard. But then again, he’s like that in everything. He has a lot of confidence and a lot of stubbornness and in the right combination those two things will serve him well.
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I should have bought sunglasses today.
Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-Five
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That dream was weird.
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Scones topped with cinnamon and sugar. I want to fall back in love with cooking.
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He’s reading me stats from his baseball card. It’s too early for pretending to have any kind of attention span for this.
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I grab a bell off the wall and walk into his room. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” I do need to get him an alarm. Though I don’t think it would help very much.
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I can’t tell if they are arguing or if the car has broken down or what. Most likely one or the other wasn’t paying close enough attention. This intersection is weird.
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I vacuum the carpets and mop the floors. I use the dish Jennette made and gifted to us to catch the ashes from the sage. Happiness, peace, and light. I repeat the words from this morning’s loving kindness meditation.
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People are strange.
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Maybe I am doing too much.
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We try to explain to him about the great snail migration that takes place each morning. He thinks the birds eat them. I think they travel to and from certain places in the yard. Or maybe it’s the a different group each time.
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Another pair of broken glasses.
Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-Four
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I wake up after he tells me he pulled me over for going 34 in a 30 zone.
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Light is creeping in.
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I put a $5 in the tip jar and start to walk out the door without the donuts. Then I realize my hands are empty. We both laugh and wish each other a good day.
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Why does it feel like everyone is yelling?
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Sometimes the bare minimum is the most you can do.
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I move the chair to into the shade but stick my legs out in the sun. Sanctuary. I’m craving sanctuary. I want to just lay down in the sun on a blanket.
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We walk down the street to the open house. Now we know why it still hasn’t sold.
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He points out all the birds of paradise in the yard. I didn’t realize we had more than one. All of them are blooming.
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We watch the hummingbird float in between us. “This is why we moved to California,” he says.
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Making home.
Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-Three
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High bun.
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Apple crisp. The sky looks like apple crisp for breakfast.
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I realize that I have to be at work an hour earlier than I originally thought. Won’t be able to see much of the game now. Maybe none at all.
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A sweater dress feels appropriate for the day.
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I send them off to the game and get a few moments of quiet alone before having to people all day.
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“But can you work 40 hours a week?”
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“Are you new? You are great. Such a great personality and so good with people. Are you always out here?”
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She’s been sitting here all day. He had to bring her to work because there was no one else to watch her. I think about how unfair it is that there’s not such thing as affordable childcare. I think about how I’m in the privileged position of paying someone else to watch my children so that both of us to work. For me, I will end up paying the babysitter more than I will make for the day. Not everyone has this privilege. I think it’s wrong. I think about all the parents. I think about where we went wrong as a culture where we can’t value the family unit and support our community in such a way that thriving is possible for everyone.
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I want to look as the way the shadows are playing on the hills. And wow, the way the glow of sunset is highlighting the mountains in the distance. I want to rub the head of that cow over there.
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I beat them home and take a long, hot shower. What is home? Where is home? What do I need in order to feel rooted where am I? What if we stayed in Brentwood? What if I just focused on making this the home we need it to be instead of looking for the next maybe-right place?
Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-Two
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Still in pain. Want to crawl back in bed.
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Trying to not let myself back out of going to the PTA meeting. I just need to get some coffee in me and then I’ll be okay.
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This top. It’s blend of innocence and allure, old and new. I need more places to wear this.
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I put on a black turtleneck because I think I’m going to be too cold. Heavy sweater over it. Coffee cup filled with coffee and frothy oat milk.
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But, I mean, where is the multi-purpose room?
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Stop talking.
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Rain, hot nettles infusion, “Women of Color,” bed.
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The feeling of impermanence.
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Syrah from the Central Coast. Blackberry, stemmy, spicy. Eventhough we’re heading into summer, I think cool climate Syrah might replace Pinot Noir for awhile.
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Too early to fall asleep.
Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-One
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Might as well get up. What’s the point in waiting for the alarm
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This doesn’t seem right.
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No one is is as amused as I am by the “use up everything in the house first before buying more food” game. Trying to reduce waste. Trying to challenge them to eat other things besides goldfish and apples.
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She asks me why I get to wear slippers in the car.
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My fingers are still numb from touching the bacon at the grocery store. From touching bacon. Lost my entire sense of touch in 60 seconds of contact. I don’t know if I could ever do another Chicago kind of winter.
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Irises leaning over a low brick wall. The bright blue-violet color against the taupe brick.
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We talk challenges and goals. I whittle everything down to feel more attainable.
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Oh, no. Not the ache at the back of the throat.
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We arrive but see no one. The dad says he’s planning on staying for the practice so it’s okay to leave him there. His wife knows the feeling. She has to leave to take the sister to her own practice. I have to leave to take the other boy to his practice too. The calendar is full of these kinds of days. Of days where I have to be in two places at the same. Days where I really wish I knew someone I could fully trust. Days where I realize that it’s going to take me a lot of time to recreate a system of support for myself.
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I guess I’ll start tomorrow by going to that PTA meeting.
Ten.Six Hundred & Forty
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Cold.
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I hear the sound of a spoon in a bowl. Who could possibly be up already? It’s not yet 6 am.
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How is it already the 3rd day of April?
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I am still holding this story of not being enough. I am still holing on to stories of shame.
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I have to make the bed before I leave. It eases a bit of the anxiety.
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Same corner in the window. Soft gray light from overcast skies. Hot chai. It’s heavy on the cinnamon today and I don’t mind. Headphones in.
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The downside of being in a public place is that you can’t spontaneously break out into song and dance. You can’t rap out lout. But I’m pretty sure everyone can see me wiggling on the stool because I just can’t help myself.
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I remember her name. It’s a name you can’t forget.
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I apply for the internship and then email my supervisor. She asks me more specifically what it is that I want.
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Having to be in two places at the same time. Multiple days a week. Tightening in the chest. Not yet having anyone else to help. One will be late. I hate being late. Cue more chest tightening.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Nine
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Meditate first.
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Bacon and potatoes? It feels too early to wake everyone with the sound of the coffee grinder.
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I need to find some more poetry today. “To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.” - Robert Frost
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There are people but not too many just yet. I tuck myself into the corner of the high bar and order a chai latte. The only thing about not working at home is the cost of the coffee.
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Distressed black jeans, black shirt, black sweater, tan flats. My kind of color palette. Maybe I will find my kindred in Brentwood after all.
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I tell him that I’ve realized that I work so much better outside of the home. Two hours of intense focus in the coffee yields the same amount of work as 12 hours sitting at home. How do I make this more of a thing? When could I afford co-working space? Is there co-working space around here? So many things to think about.
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Distillery 209 Gin, Fever Dream Mediterranean Tonic, juniper berries, a slice of grapefruit, a sprig of rosemary, un flor de pensamiento.
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One day I’ll become fluent in Spanish.
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My first baseball game. I’m cold. Shivering, actually. I forget how competitive I am until I’m at something like this.
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But I do know what I want. I just know that no one else will understand. But there’s a different way to do all of this. I believe that.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Eight
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Monday.
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I can’t find the jeans I want. Maybe I didn’t put them in the dryer yesterday. These are too stiff and too low. I’ve come to love the support of a high-waist jean.
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It’s just flexing the muscle.
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I fill up my mug one more time before I get in the car. My hands are too full. He has to hold things for me so that I can get into the car without dropping it all. They were all waiting for me.
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“Hey, baby. I mean, Hi ma’am, how are you?” I smile while I wait for my receipt and then laugh as I make my way over the bridge.
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My first time driving myself up to wine country on my own since we’ve lived here. To settle my nerves I look for poppies and mustard. I find turkey vultures atop fence posts.
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He grew up in Brentwood. What a small world. I get a cup of coffee and walk around the grounds. I sit in front of a fountain, touch the petals of the succulents, look at the people sitting on porch swings. This place is really like stepping into another dimension. It’s only good vibes.
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The drive back takes me on a road that sits next to marshes. The horizon is one long string of hills and mountains blanketed in fog and haze. I live here among the hills now.
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Maybe the drive was today’s meditation.
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You gotta bottle those feelings.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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I just want there to be enough time in the day to do what need to be done.
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To be more strategic. No. Not strategic. Intentional.
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Waffles. Butter into every square. A light drizzle of syrup. I should have added strawberry. I make another cafe au lait with some fresh cinnamon. But there’s not going back to bed today.
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I need to go.
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The trail is busier than usual. A group of cyclists. People walking dogs. There are at least 10 people on the tennis court but their rackets look odd. The creek that was so dry and quiet in early winter is vocal. I stop on the bridge to take a listen. So much sun.
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Meditation in the covered porch. It’s just quiet enough.
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Big House Beans. Pour over and gluten-free avocado toast topped with hard-boiled egg and crisp radish. Laptop on the high bar. Music in ears. I might have found a third place.
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I work my way from anger and resentment to gratitude and peace. Everything is clean.
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The smell of roasted tomatoes and garlic. No one eats the salad. Pax Carignan.
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Tomorrow we go back to normal. But there’s no such thing as normal. Tomorrow will be normal enough.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Six
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I ask him how he turned the Xbox on. I don’t even know what time it is. But I know what to do.
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I don’t want to get up. Next week’s return to the normal school schedule is going to be a bit rough.
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Need dinner for tonight. A light pasta dish sounds good. Yes, we’ll do that.
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Tiny bit of tangerine creeping up to meet the deep blue sky. I miss not being able to see the sunrises and sunsets as easily. Things to remember for when it’s time to choose the next location.
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Frothy vanilla oat milk. I hand grate a stick of cinnamon over the top. This feels like a little bit of luxury before work.
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The feeling of not wanting to explain what went wrong. Hoping not too many people remember to ask me.
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If she’s called in then that means no one else is going to do it so maybe I will. Plus, it’s going to be a beautiful day outside. Why would I want to be stuck indoors.
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I really want a pair of clogs.
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Soreness. Fatigued. I peopled all day today. The irony of being good at something that is so emotionally draining.
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No progress is perfect.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Five
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When Tyler Florence is in your dream and commending you on all the food you’ve cooked.
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I already hear rustling in the kitchen.
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We decide that maybe today is a good day for a little adventure. I know it means a lot of time in the car, but I think it will be good for everyone to get out of the house. It’s supposed to be a beautiful day.
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No one is as excited as we are.
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Having your experience validated can shift something in you.
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When you know what you need to do but someone else tells you those exact same things you’ve been thinking but not acting on.
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So warm in the sun.
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Random bunches of calla lilies. Some of them in front of leaning houses with peeling paint. The juxtaposition of exquisite beauty and detritus.
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But I could live in this little town if it weren’t so far away from everything.
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I opt to save the Pax wines for another night. Maybe for Sunday’s roasted chicken when there’s time to savor.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Four
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Not ready.
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A bushy gray cat is walking around in the backyard. I hope it can get itself out because I have no desire to go out there and touch it.
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Leftover olive oil cake and coffee. Soft light. I do think the sun will be out today.
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Green hills and Mt. Diablo in the distance. I realize that I haven’t really left the house since returning home Sunday. I take a deep breath. This is what I came here for.
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I cut what I think is phlox. The delicate lavender flowers won’t leave my mind. I stick them in a mason jar with some water. Yes. I just needed a little bit of beauty.
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I walk. They ride their bike and their skateboard. In the sun, when the breeze takes a pause, it’s just about perfect. The sky is clear enough to see see the hills and the turbines off in the distance. Two cotton ball clouds are sitting atop Mt. Diablo. We are the only ones at the park. It is surprisingly quiet for such a beautiful day.
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Uno.
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Two kids with practice at the same time in different towns. This stresses me out even though he is here to help today.
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“Why are we getting ready to leave so early?” “So we can be early to practice. Early is on time.” “No. Early is early.”
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I wipe out on the blacktop. “Part of learning is falling down.” Note to self, buy a 31-inch wooden board.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Three
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Her skateboard arrives today. I hope the rain holds off so that she can use it. But it does look like rain.
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I decide that breakfast today will be an orange olive oil cake. A blood orange olive oil cake. First I make the orange sugar. I realize that I need more of this in my life.
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The instinct is to try to fix it on my own.
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Hair down to her elbows. Glowing chestnut brown. She always looks so much older with straightened hair. Hopefully she can stay out of the rain.
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I’m a little jealous. What black woman doesn’t have a thing about hair?
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It looks like no one enjoyed the olive oil cake as much as I did. I can keep it for myself.
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And then the skateboard came. I want a skateboard too. Maybe I’ll get one for myself this summer. Two brown girls skateboarding through the neighborhood. I kinda like the sound of that.
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The episode of Queer Eye that we watched last night is still on my mind. The struggles with identity. How we get to define ourselves. How there are a million ways to be a black woman.
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He tells me he’s proud of the way I’m bouncing back.
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Feeling the need for a deep spring clean.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-Two
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What to make for breakfast?
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Little leaks of light coming through. I can hear birds chirping but nothing else.
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The combination of a bright sunrise and wet pavement.
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I make sure to write a review on both Facebook and Yelp and then send them both emails full of gratitude.
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Client work. I take the notebooks outside but am distracted by the loud hum of bees in the tree nearby.
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“90 days?!” “Yes. I have to wait 90 days in order to take it again.” “You’re going to take it again?” “Yes, I am. Because you don’t give up on the things you really want, remember?”
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But it could also be depression. And so it’s good that I already have a therapy appointment scheduled for Friday.
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What I want is for someone to feed me.
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A late dinner. I do not like practices that last from 5:30-7:30. But I see the excitement in his face when it’s a practice day and that makes me happy.
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He asks me if I’m okay because I think we both know that I’m not okay. And it’s okay to not be okay.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty-One
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It’s their last day. The time always goes too fast.
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A few more games of War and Speed before they go.
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I just wish we could have had a little more time. This is the one thing about the move out west. The distance between us doubled. And while I do have dreams of us all being Californians at some point, I know that the time for it is not now. Patience.
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He gives them each a $20 bill. She comes to me asking for a skateboard.
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I decide I’m just going to lay in bed for the day. I am emotionally, mentally, and physically drained. The only thing I want to do is play word games on my phone.
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But there is also so much love and encouragement.
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He asks me if I’m questioning the purpose of life. I tell him that yes, that’s been the theme of the day.
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I still have time.
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Pizza and Pio Cesare Nebbiolo. A lot of water. A cold shower to end the evening.
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I can try again. I can try again.
Ten.Six Hundred & Thirty
1. I make a small cup of hotel room coffee. This should be weak enough that I won’t have too many tummy issues.
2. My left nostril is clogged. I hope that doesn’t ruin today.
3. A little bit of light from the sunrise peeking through the clouds. The light reflecting off the tiny ripples in the bay. I could totally live on the water.
4. I eat three bites of my eggs and sip chamomile. I stuff the book and notecards back into the bag. I either know or I don’t.
5. I pick a seat facing the window. I can see blue sky and birds and the clock on the façade of city hall.
6. I am the first one done. He touches my elbow and thanks me for being a good listener. I don’t know what it means but I smile and take my nerves outside.
7. I finished. Maybe now I can eat.
8. Three Modelos at Hometown Heroes while we wait. Maybe there’s a chance I squeezed it out.
9. He has one more certificate in his hands and I know it’s not mine. The sting of defeat and disappointment. I want to skip the dinner reservation but he insists that we still go.
10. AR Lenoble champagne, a Sancerre Rouge, a 2003 Domaine Zinf Humbrect Gewurztraminer, 1960 Bual. Teary eyes. His invitation to come and taste with his staff on Wednesday mornings. Gratitude for encouragement from strangers.
Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-Nine
1. Still a little sleepy.
2. No sound of rain but the light coming in through the blinds still seems too gray.
3. I can feel the nerves kicking it. I know it’s berves because I keep walking around the kitchen in circles.
4. Cloud shadows on the rolling hills. The sheep are very close to the fence today. I love these little sheep so much you’d think they were my own.
5. Loons and a crane. Breakfast is less than stellar which feels surprising and disappointing after having had two nice meals there.
6. I show them where I work. Introduce some of the kids to my coworkers.
7. I tend to compartmentalze my worlds whereas my husband doesn’t so much. So when I have these crossings I feel odd. And yet it also makes me feel more whole.
8. I enter and watch a scene of the movie. I have a fat stack of napkins in my hands that will fall if I reach up to wipe away the tears. I will need to watch this again from the beginning.
9. I wish I could have just a few more days with them.
10. I fall asleep with flash cards in my hands. It’s time to sleep.
Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty-Eight
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Waking up to the sound of rain.
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I head to the kitchen to put the potatoes in the oven and then return to my room and take my time getting ready. Still listening to the sound of rain.
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“Traveling the world in wine, I see.” “I have an exam on Sunday so I’m trying to give my palate a little refresher on a few things.” Before we finish checking out he tells me to trust myself. To go with my first choice because it will usually be right. Something about his white hair and tiny gold hoops and round face makes me think of a buddha.
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Trust myself.
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They went to In-n-Out so we go to get tacos.
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Her name is Monse. I repeat it. I won’t be able to say it like she says it but I love it. It’s a quiet name that also feels strong. I google it to find the meaning. It’s a Catalan name, short for Montserrat which means mountain. Quiet and strong.
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We watch “The Indian in the Cupboard,” one of my favorite books growing up but I understand why it’s no longer talked about.
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He finishes cooking the turkey burgers while I sit through and blind taste the whites we bought today. I got 3 out of 5 right.
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Trust yourself.
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Games of 3-way War and speed and Uno. Full with nerves, good food, the joy of watching the children have time with their grandparents.