Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Nine

1. Chilly. More than chilly. Cold.

2. Those itty-bitty snails. The garden hose in the way. There’s no way they make it over. Then again, who am I to underestimate them?

3. Don’t drink all the coffee.

4. The sound of rain beating against the leaves.

5. “What’s an elective?” “I just want to continue to do online learning.” “We’ll talk about it. For now, let’s just do the work.”

6. But really, what’s he’s asking for is what I’ve been wanting to offer to him, specifically, for so long. And though I finally have the stamina, now I have traditional work. Can I do my traditional work in non-traditional ways? What could it look like? Have I just not tried hard enough?

7. I go over the list. Cross out the items. Review the list again.

8. Back to beer.

9. The just-right amount of sunshine and breeze and quiet.

10. They say that they’d like to try homeschooling for real. I tell them that it will look more intense than what they’re doing now because of COVID. They say they still want to do it. They like being able to work at their own pace, in their own time. They like the freedom.

11. Maybe this is the next edge.

12. There is time.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Eight

1. The cooing of pigeons. They are so loud in their nests tucked between solar panels.

2. Gray skies. Rain and wind in today’s forecast. A cleansing is coming.

3. So many little ones in the grass today, I dare not step into the lawn to visit the plants out of fear that I may crush one.

4. Two biscuits. I gotta stop making these if I’m the only one eating them.

5. Location, Flavor, Aroma, Balance, ABV, SRM, IBU.

6. The streets are quieter than I expected after what seemed like a rather boisterous Saturday in the neighborhood. I make notes to self: plant jasmine in the next house—maybe add an arbor of bougainvillea too; get yourself somewhere with a better view; but maybe I just need to belong to myself first.

7. What am I thinking?

8. It looks like rain. I feel a drop of water on my cheek. The clouds are now a milky gray, obscuring the sun. I head back inside. The sun returns. Of course.

9. “And what’s new for me, or at least what I’m seeing differently as a mom is that even living in a place long viewed as a progressive enclave won’t save your family.” - Dani McClain, We Live for the We: The Political Power of Black Motherhood

10. I remember the day I came to that realization. When the real fear of parenting was no longer about whether or not I would pick the right preschool or school district for my child, but whether or not I could truly keep them safe.

11. Coffee table jazz station on Spotify. Red wine in a stemless glass. “Die Wise,” “We Live for the We,” “California Calling.” The sounds of the television creeping in. The night breeze caressing my bare ankles. Too many open tabs.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Seven

1. I will just doa walk and check on things. 4:36 says his clock. I should go back to bed.

2. Oh yes, the biscuits.

3. Tiny snails trying to make it over thick blades of grass. They do not quit. They do not quit.

4. Always so good to see and hear her. I realize that I won’t get to sit with her in her home this year, maybe not even next year. Wow.

5. I see life. I hover over each one and thank them for perking up, apologize to the ones with yellowing leaves, and promise them that I’m trying to do my best, beseeching them to help me out and tell me what they need.

6. I finish the last few episodes and feel renewed.

7. They ask me if I’ve had hammock time. I haven’t. But I am outside, as much as possible.

8. Miracles are scattered beyond.

9. “A story is yours alone until it is spoken. When words are secret, it is you who decides if they exist.” — Natalie Singer, California Calling

10. Dessert is a handful of fruit and words.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Five

1. I bet it’s almost 5.

2. I keep the pajamas on because it’s cleaning day. He’s still sleeping; I think about cleaning the kitchen before everyone wakes but why do all that work just to have them all mess it up right away?

3. The one snail stuck to the window. Is it dead or alive? Should I pluck it off the glass and set it on the ground to see what will happen? They seem so delicate.

4. They better get that box today.

5. That box.

6. I add manchego to the list because she saw the recipe for fried manchego in the tapas cookbook and, I mean, friend cheese.

7. She gets awfully close to me to hand me a pen and I try to keep myself from running away from her lest they think I’m one of those “over-reactors”…though I am one of those. I just want to sign for my CSA.

8. Mulberries. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a mulberry. I had a little bit o everything: mulberries and cherries and apricots and tangerines.

9. Hot soup on a day like today.

10. Why the scaly skin?

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Four

1. There are the sprinklers again.

2. Humid morning. But cool. Sweater and jeans kind of cool. I make my way across the patio and find a snail with a bluish hue.

3. I slice the leeks and at them to the red onions, caramelize them for the baked potatoes. I think about how this is indeed Pandemic food. But it’s not pandemic food; it’s resourceful food. It’s using what you have kind of food which is what most folks do every day. It’s what we’ve always done.

4. I text her to confirm the time of surgery. She says the hospital will send her text updates.

5. “The future is in your mouth.” Ocean Vuong

6. “…reclaiming the practices that sustained our ancestors.” - Bryant Terry

7. I feel like I need a nap. I slide beneath the covers and open “California Calling: A Self-Interrogation. I am relieved to see a structure that is nonconventional. Or is it more conventional now? Either way, it’s encouraging to see published work that looks more like how I write.

8. I don’t even wear the kinds of things she makes but when she describes them it makes me excited and I can tell she’s excited too and so this is what I tell her she should focus on.

9. I tug at the hose, frustrated. Why is everything so limp and turning yellow? They look like they are simultaneously over-watered and under-watered. Nothing is germinating in the seed tray. This is a learning year, maybe. But still. I want to eat the peas. I want to eat the lettuce. I want a harvest.

10. How much longer will I avoid it?

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Three

1. It’s time.

2. Dark skies and bird song.

3. I take one of the loaves out of the refrigerator and then slice up some strawberries. Honey-cinnamon butter. I remember the days when this used to be all that I needed to do. When my mornings could be slow and simple.

4. He rarely calls me this early in the morning. He’s checking to make sure I’m okay. He’s noticed that I haven’t posted anything in my Instagram stories in a few days. I chuckle. “Sometimes I just need a break,” I say. Then I ask him about his COVID test; it’s negative which is reassuring. It means the surgery will happen tomorrow as planned.

5. Still no sun.

6. Her interview with Melissa Alexander makes me teary-eyed. I want to be mad at the questions she asked but I can’t be. Because that’s what makes the conversation so tender.

7. I read the email. I did request feedback. I can’t be scared of it. And, it turns out, there was nothing to be scared of.

8. I speak low and slow. Like honey. They are hanging on to every word and I am not saying anything they actually want to hear. But they are listening.

9. Just a little bit of sun makes a difference.

10. I really, really need to meditate more.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Two

1. Another school week. Three more of these left. The baseball unit officially starts today.

2. It sounds like a helicopter going round in circles. It seems awfully early for anyone to be out. Crop plane?

3. The roaring of the electric kettle. The clicking of the oven.

4. I get to work right away and it’s not even 6:30 yet but that is all there is to do. But am I setting myself up for a bad habit? I can’t imagine going back to the way it was.

5. Eye roll.

6. No clouds in the sky. I remember that this week will be cooler than last week and I’m grateful for that.

7. So much pouting. He could have been done by now. I should just throw that box away and then, there would be nothing for him to be so upset about.

8. Pedaling into the wind. I love riding by this house and its jasmine. I smile every time.

9. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” we say. Then comes the water. A surprise.

10. That was not the response we were looking for and yet, it is what it is.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Two

1. Another school week. Three more of these left. The baseball unit officially starts today.

2. It sounds like a helicopter going round in circles. It seems awfully early for anyone to be out. Crop plane?

3. The roaring of the electric kettle. The clicking of the oven.

4. I get to work right away and it’s not even 6:30 yet but that is all there is to do. But am I setting myself up for a bad habit? I can’t imagine going back to the way it was.

5. Eye roll.

6. No clouds in the sky. I remember that this week will be cooler than last week and I’m grateful for that.

7. So much pouting. He could have been done by now. I should just throw that box away and then, there would be nothing for him to be so upset about.

8. Pedaling into the wind. I love riding by this house and its jasmine. I smile every time.

9. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” we say. Then comes the water. A surprise.

10. That was not the response we were looking for and yet, it is what it is.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-One

1. There’s the first one.

2. I am no longer tired anyway.

3. My eyes keep landing on the words: “miracles are scattered beyond.” The more I read it, the more it feels like an affirmation.

4. Waffles with melted butter, strawberries, and whipped cream. Orange juice and coffee. Yes, please.

5. I lift the towel and listen to it sing, watch it dance. “It’s so alive!” Maybe too alive.

6. I take my book out to the yard. The hammock is too wet. I sit on the patio instead.

7. No one is bothering me and I guess that’s what I really want on Mother’s Day - to be left alone to my own devices. To not have to labor over anything. But there is always more laundry.

8. There’s that sneeze.

9. I catch myself. There is no reason to do that. Doing that would keep me on the path and I think I’m ready to take a different route.

10. How does one just disappear?

Ten.One Thousand & Forty

1. The glaring golden light hits my eyes.

2. I will wash my hair. I will wash my hair. I will wash my hair.

3. Done.

4. I grab the seed tray and the plastic tarp and the lettuce seeds. I start to pour them out into my hand and then wish for a seed spreader. I think of the seed spreader and Carlos and that brief but therapeutic time working in the greenhouse of the restaurant. I wish I could have stayed longer. I think of how, shortly thereafter, the #metoo stories from the hospitality industry began to appear. I remember how, back then, I hoped they appreciated my honesty and candor and that it implemented changes within. I doubt it.

5. The heat of the sun on my back.

6. More laundry.

7. My request for a simple dessert of strawberries and whipped cream is offensive to her; she wants to make me something more elaborate.

8. To stay or to go?

9. I make a slaw from the kohlrabi. He will not eat salmon but he will eat kohlrabi. This kid.

10. This layer of quiet over everything when the sun disappears behind the palm trees.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Nine

1. No sleep. Don’t know why I couldn’t sleep. I’ll just blame it on the full moon.

2. I move the post-it notes around and read my notes: Lean in to what surpasses your understanding; Defiant magic - own it; It’s time for us to create what they will not do for us; The doors will open when you rest into that knowing.

3. I need a bagel if I’m going to have a second cup.

4. I am shocked by how energized the exercise makes me feel. I had forgotten how different you can feel when you are making with your hands. Cactus energy.

5. I can barely keep my eyes open.

6. It’s just good to see and hear her.

7. Sometimes freedom is scary.

8. “Miracles are scattered beyond.”

9. Well, now I feel like I need to grow some corn.

10. So much laundry.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Eight

1. The sound of the sprinklers. I remember this from last year: waking up to that sfpppeee of water shooting out of the hole from the drip irrigation.

2. He’s up which means I can get up without feeling guilty about disturbing him.

3. I should probably stop sending emails at 6:30 in the morning.

4. Maybe we can do it.

5. They look like they’re racing. One, a very tiny one, creeping slowly over the hose.

6. In every conversation, so many synchronicities. Which means maybe it’s not just me. And that feels good.

7. We talk for 3.5 hours. We just have a hard time keeping it short and sweet. But we are not shallow women.

8. I need a break.

9. “Rest in your knowing.”

10. It’s hot. Very hot. I can feel it radiating through the umbrella.

11. I miss them. I remind myself to just keep holding the vision. It’s all possible.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Seven

1. I stare up at the ceiling.

2. Will their antennae touch? Will one shrink back? Which one will continue on its path?

3. He walks in to let me know that today, I forgot to wake him up at 6am. I tell him that I’m sorry; I got carried away.

4. I add more books to the cart. I just can’t help myself. Also, she is a voracious reader, just like her mother, and without a library, I can’t keep up.

5. I haven’t heard any of his sneezes today.

6. How much of this is true? How much of this is my imagination? How much of this is just the phase of the moon?

7. I pull the rose off the tree with just my hand. A fistful of purple petals. I scatter them on the ground. I am not sure what I planned to do with them. I just felt the need to hold the flower in my hand.

8. The two of us swinging in the hammock. The other two chatting beside us. Sun and shadow.

9. Meeting strangers on the internet.

10. I realize that maybe it’s just birthday anxiety. Perhaps I am more afraid of aging than I thought.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Six

1. Tuesday. Tuesday? Yes.

2. Bird song sneaking in through the open windows. Sky changing from indigo to worn denim.

3. Sweater over shorts. I try to wake him up at 6, like he asked. I rub his soft cheek. He still has a little bit of baby fat. He asks for five more minutes.

4. One, two, three, four, five. A small cluster on the bricks that surround the empty pond. No more lemons on the ground.

5. Grocery delivery. Should I even still be doing this? But the last time at the hardware store…I just couldn’t.

6. Zoom calls across time zones. I miss them.

7. She tells me she can talk on Thursday, that she’s sensing that I have some things I need to talk about. She’s not wrong. There is a lot. There is so much.

8. I blame the margarita for the loose fingers. He chuckles to himself, says something about famous writers being drinkers.

9. I really these tacos had shrimp in them.

10. Almost every ear is dog-eared. How could this be the first time I’m reading this? I will pass then down on to her.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Five

1. I hear voices. Voices from a tv. I walk the house trying to see if someone is up. No one is. Just my imagination.

2. Still hearing the voices. I get up. Nothing. It must be the combination of the sprinklers and the sound machine playing tricks on me.

3. Water.

4. I am, I am, I am.

5. I listen to the replay and, once again, find myself back in the auditorium. She is indeed giving a sermon; you can tell by the way she talks that she is a preacher’s daughter.

6. “Let this moment radicalize you.” - Devita Davidson

7. “Clarity only matters if we put it into action.” - Therese Nelson

8. I stare up at the clear blue sky. I hear everything: the hummingbird’s hum, the buzz of those giant black bees, the neighbor’s theatrical sneezes. I hear it all and I feel it all.

9. The dread is real and telling. What would it require to shift?

10. “So much of the satisfying work of life begins as an experiment; having learned, no experiment is ever quite a failure.” - Alice Walker

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Four

1. Still a headache. I need to work on hydration today. Need to wash her hair today.

2. I get the idea in my head to get a headstart on the work for the week but then I remember I need to guard my time. Don’t slip into the boundarylessness again. Keep pockets of time for self.

3. But what can I do?

4. Wash day for her. I decide we should do it right after breakfast. Way fewer tears than last time.

5. We transplant what needs new containers and plant the starters in proper pots of their own. Well. Now it’s 9:15 am. What else is there to do?

6. The beetle is indeed very large and I can understand why she would sleep so uncomfortably on the sofa instead of in her own room.

7. Margarita and chips and guacamole for lunch. The last class makes us both tear up. Yes, this is what we moved here for.

8. I try to block out the conversation.

9. I crush the garlic in the mortar and pestle and then understand why she prefers the suribachi. I whisk the egg yolk while slowly drizzling in the olive oil. We will dip the potatoes and chicken in it.

10. “The human species is a kind of animal, of course. But we can do something no other animal species has ever had the option to do. We can choose: We can go on building and destroying until we either destroy ourselves or destroy the ability fo our world to sustain us. Or we can make something more of ourselves. We can grow up. We can leave the nest. We can…make homes for ourselves among the stars, and become some combination of what we want to become and whatever our new environments challenge us to become. Our new worlds will remake us as we remake them. And some of the new people who emerge from all this will develop new ways to cope. They’ll have to. That will break the old cycle, even if it’s only to begins a new one, a different one.” - Parable of the Talents, pg 321

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Three

1. It’s early, I think. What is today? Today is Saturday.

2. The last thing I remember in the dream is a baby Dash asking for more rice while sitting in a high chair. The cheeks!

3. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.

4. Leftover broth and noodles for breakfast. I think I could eat dinner for breakfast on most days. Unless it’s a Belgian waffle with fresh strawberries and big clouds of whipped cream.

5. It’s still cool but I face the sun and drape a blanket across my legs. Just need the fog to lift a little more and then I should be okay.

6. A different map of the tongue.

7. It takes too long.

8. Garbling meditation. The scent of lavender is soothing.

9. I am bothered even though I shouldn’t let it bother me. There are more important things to be bothered by. I try to refocus on Alice.

10. The water is hot, too hot. Extremely hot. I tell him it makes for a good bath, though. Water that is too hot means that the bath lasts a lot longer and I do have a book I want to finish.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Two

1. Up later than usual but it doesn’t matter.

2. What day is it? Today is Friday.

3. Hard to find the snails. Maybe because we didn’t water the yard last night?

4. So good to hear her voice and to see her face. Seeing her mailbox numbers makes me a little sad. I remind myself that it’s okay to miss the past while being excited about the future.

5. I miss the rain.

6. I am a corner full of light. I am a flower blowing in the wind. I am muffled exaltations.

7. More pictures from two years ago at the ranch. I can’t believe it’s been only two years. How is that even possible? I remember that last night and how I said I knew that I would be living in California soon because it just felt like home. I sometimes forget that I am living in/out a dream.

8. I could listen to Dr. Harris talk all day.

9. Their conversation makes me want to transport myself back to Resistance Served. Can I have that same feeling of complete wholeness, please?

10. He told me I could literally just use a branch to propagate a tree. Now to figure out how I can get branches from the neighbor’s fig and lemon tree. Ron makes me feel like I can do anything.

11. His question is valid. It’s just that I have no answer for it. It’s just that I know there’s nothing I can say that will fit into his current framework.

12. Reading material.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Two

1. Up later than usual but it doesn’t matter.

2. What day is it? Today is Friday.

3. Hard to find the snails. Maybe because we didn’t water the yard last night?

4. So good to hear her voice and to see her face. Seeing her mailbox numbers makes me a little sad. I remind myself that it’s okay to miss the past while being excited about the future.

5. I miss the rain.

6. I am a corner full of light. I am a flower blowing in the wind. I am muffled exaltations.

7. More pictures from two years ago at the ranch. I can’t believe it’s been only two years. How is that even possible? I remember that last night and how I said I knew that I would be living in California soon because it just felt like home. I sometimes forget that I am living in/out a dream.

8. I could listen to Dr. Harris talk all day.

9. Their conversation makes me want to transport myself back to Resistance Served. Can I have that same feeling of complete wholeness, please?

10. He told me I could literally just use a branch to propagate a tree. Now to figure out how I can get branches from the neighbor’s fig and lemon tree. Ron makes me feel like I can do anything.

11. His question is valid. It’s just that I have no answer for it. It’s just that I know there’s nothing I can say that will fit into his current framework.

12. Reading material.

Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-One

1. Thursday? Thursday. Last day of the month. How is it already the end of April?

2. The list for today is short but sweet.

3. He said it was a sad sight.

4. There were still too many people in there even though they were wearing masks. Still too close. Still walking right by you, sometimes brushing against you to squeeze down an aisle. This will not work.

5. I ask myself if my actions are actually laying the foundation for what I really want to see in the future. Have I been fooling myself into thinking that I’m doing it differently?

6. The sentiments in his essay echo thoughts I had just written in my journal. This is good. This means that there are some of us are operating on the same wavelength within the collective consciousness.

7. Stay off the screen.

8. But this sun.

9. I realize that I have to de-condition myself from expecting even my books within 48 hours. Still learning how to wait.

10. I watch the Gangsta Gardener while sitting in the garden. I hear the thud of lemons. They are big and round, the size of softballs.

11. 80s hits for dinner-time music.