Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Sixteen
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The whizzing sound of water pushing through the irrigation hoses.
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Darkness.
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The season is changing.
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Who is driving whom to what places in which cars?
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The shift in energy due to the finality of things.
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Slow and steady the first time. Alone in the dark and quiet. Going to need a heavier jacket.
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Incremental progress.
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They keep asking for things and I keep having to say “no,” and I can see the disappointment in their face. Things have changed. Things are always changing. Is it truly for the better?
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Will they remember this as the break in the relationship, when everything was different. Am I losing them? Are they losing me? What is falling through?
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It’s just not how I like to head into a weekend with a guest. But grateful for their understanding.
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Gott’s for dinner. I let them get ice cream.
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I’ve got to learn to relax.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Fifteen
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It must be the sound of the irrigation I’m hearing.
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Brisk.
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Today is less complicated but still feels very full.
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The truth is that everyone is not having the same experience, even though we think we are.
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I suggest a red polo with the blazer this year, just so that it looks different from the last two years. Really gotta get this kid a suit for Christmas.
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Delivering delight.
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I actually do like cleaning.
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Smells like burning rubber.
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Perfect weather for a glass of wine out on the bench. We watch people go up and down the sidewalk. You can tell it’s the weekend by the way the people are dressed. I think of the conversations in the apps. How much of this is good for the town, how much of this is bad? How do we strike a balance?
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You can change your mind when presented with new information.
Ten.One Thousand,Five Hundred & Fourteen
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Is this the last of the coffee?
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I stir the oats slowly while I listen to the coffee percolate. These dark mornings remind me that summer is over, a new season is upon us. I do not mind the dark.
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Cold feet.
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Relief.
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She asks me for an update. I tell her that it’s best that I call because it is a little more complicated than it seems.
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She always reminds me that I get to choose joy and trust in what I am able to manifest for myself. “You wouldn’t be sitting there in California if you couldn’t.”
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Intuition never lies.
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Blessing of the grapes. A few stories.
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I want more time.
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He gives me a rundown of what is happening this afternoon for each child and where each child is and where each child needs to be. Then I tell him about all of the things I learned today. I had a good day. I needed a good day.
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He manages to talk me into meeting most of his requests. Maybe it’s because he’s the baby. Maybe it’s because he’s so persistent.
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“Look at the sun,” I say. “Like a neon sign,” I say.
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“…self-narration and self-archiving known in Western society as “journaling”. Our journals, the catalogs of our lifetimes, form life libraries that confirm our testimonies to our future self and descendants. Our written narratives are the foundation of our matriarchal integrity, and the act of journaling postures us to live in wisdom, lives of dignity and virtue in a society that profits from our mental enslavement and dissonance between past, present and future.” - Chimene
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We could tell a more compelling story.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Thirteen
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I open my eyes and look at the windows. Still dark.
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But no more dreams about the forklift.
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Double-check the schedule.
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Something is off. I try to ignore it.
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Sneak peeks at beautiful things. The sun is out. At this moment, the sky is clear and the light is thin. It looks like fall.
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We don’t make it all the way down the hill and maybe it’s a good thing.
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Well, I might as well just say it.
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“This isn’t it, is it?” They tell me where to go next. Just follow the road around the curve. I make it out of the gate and then turn. But I’m still not sure.
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“Did you find it okay.” “No. But I left early enough so that I could get lost and still be on time,” I say.
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Not ready for that. Am I ready for anything?
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Twelve
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Not yet time for the alarm.
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Missed call from Mom.
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DM from Mom. I need to call.
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The last time she talked to him was 8:00pm her time.
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I call her. We talk. Every scenario goes through my mind. What are my options? I text Roxy. I DM Bear. I search the Twitter feeds. I ask for the address and the name of the neighborhood. I search Facebook. I find what I think is the page for the home owner’s association. I tell them the details: My mom is not there. We can’t reach my father. I just need someone who can give me information.
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But it is so beautiful. The fog. The cool air. The grapes. The green vines. There are worse things.
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I keep checking my phone, even though I know I shouldn’t be checking my phone.
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“I checked on [him]. He is good.” I screenshot the message and send it to everyone else.
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The videos make me even more nervous.
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I pass. “Needs more practice,” it says. Well. Considering I’ve only done it for three hours, I’m okay with that note.
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Remember lunch next time.
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I am not just angry. I am sad. I am sad, but not surprised.
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I really like it here. I really, really like it here.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eleven
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I shouldn’t be awake yet. I blame it on the forklift dreams.
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It will be a full day.
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The Weather Channel app only gives you a ten-minute trial. Ten minutes! But ten minutes is enough for me to know that it’s a Category 4.
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Hazy morning skies. Hot air balloons floating along the horizon. Which ones have just taken off? Which ones are landing?
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Slow stroll through the store. Some things are the same. Some things are different.
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It’s almost like he’s forgotten everything he learned.
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“We need a basketball hoop,” he says.
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“Going to try to sneak in a nap?” “No. I can’t nap. But I can rest.”
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Scores his first touchdown on a 34-yard run. Then scores the extra point.
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“It’s okay. You can smile. You had a good game.”
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Where did I hide the caramel sauce?
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ten
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I laugh at the dream. So worried about the test.
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I tell her all the things and her reaction tells me that I'm not the crazy one.
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Bagels.
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Already so hot.
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Drying uniforms on the front deck.
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We all try to stay in the shade but it doesn't keep us from sweating.
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The smallness of this world.
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I laugh. I look out over the view.
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2018 Bevan Cellars Otogeny Red Blend. 2016 Bevan Cellars Tench Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon. 2017 Bevan Cellars Tench Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon, The Calixto. 2018 Bevan Cellars Tench Vineyard Red Blend, EE. 2019 Bevan Cellars Tench Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon. 2018 Resolution Cabernet Sauvignon. 2019 Per Us Ines Cabernet Sauvignon. 2019 Chase Zinfandel, Hayne Vineyard.
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Someone is playing music. Mexican mariachi. The sky has cleared and the stares are bright.
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“You couldn't have done this in Oswego,” he says.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Nine
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Today’s the day.
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Plenty of time. Plenty of time.
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“…But I find the sacred in almost everything…” - Luis Alberto Urrea
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“We writers are the raw nerve of the universe. Our job is to go out and feel things for people, then to come back and tell them how it feels to be alive. Because they are numb. Because we have forgotten.”- Ursula Le Guin
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Open mind. You’re allowed to make mistakes.
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I stare out across the vineyards while I wait. There is a faint smell of smoke in the air. The fires are not close, and yet they are.
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There is so much for which I am grateful.
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I buy one wine I’ve had before and three new ones. I tell him we need to make time to drive down here more often. So much more variety. So many good values.
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Cancelled practices.
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“I like it when you’re in a good mood.”
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eight
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Heavy.
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The first thing I think of is yesterday and all of the words and all of the feelings. Where do we go from here?
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I take a sip of tea and tell him that I just needed a normal morning in my home.
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Too many questions too early in the morning.
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Three crows.
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I take notes while she talks. This conversation is important and complex. How do we create a better support system for working mothers?
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“Crow symbolism, as a totem, also deals with communication. Legend upon legend reveals crows have been consulted for wisdom in their avian speech. Do you speak in a way that is powerful, profound, but not always understood?”
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“I am still really happy that we’re here. I’m really glad we live here.”
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How do you tell the truth without compromising your opportunities?
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The point is that they never gave up.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seven
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Not the normal sound for my alarm.
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They’re already done. Well, at least I get a few more hours of sleep.
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Mind racing. Can’t fall asleep.
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I watch the color of the light change as the fog slowly lifts. Sometimes there’s just no capturing what the eye can see.
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Light again. A problem. Maybe.
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Back in time to take them to school. My favorite part of the morning these days.
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“…details are everything.” - Jennifer Azzi
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“The more you know yourself, the better you are.” J-O
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“This is exactly what we are: human.” J-O
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It feels tight in here. We've forgotten the vision. Maybe we're all just confused. Maybe we all want to be right. Maybe we all just need a break.
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”NIMBY, an acronym for "Not In My Backyard," describes the phenomenon in which residents of a neighbourhood designate a new development (e.g. shelter, affordable housing, group home) or change in occupancy of an existing development as inappropriate or unwanted for their local area.”
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We are in the messy part of growth.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Six
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Much better.
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No one understands my sense of time.
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I tell him that all was fine except for the loud shower.
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Plain unsweetened yogurt and fruit and granola. I am not hungry but I eat all of it.
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We sit and wait.
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This feels like an easy answer.
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He tells me to keep an open mind. I sigh and get out of the car.
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Not so easy of a choice after all.
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Garlic Naan. Sidewalk conversations.
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Home.
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A lot of socializing for one day. I am only half-listening as I make a mental list of all that needs to be done before the end of the day.
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She made the pasta and the bread. I feel lucky. I tell her so before I head up to bed.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Five
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1:12am. 2:38am. 3:47am.
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Maybe I’m missing the weighted blanket.
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Everyone else is still sleeping. I stare at the phone and watch the time pass. Blackout curtains always do the trick.
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Safeways for Lunchables. Model Bakery for breakfast. We eat the pastries in the car. It’s like being on vacation, but not.
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So tired.
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I’m pretty sure this Caesar dressing has mayonnaise in it.
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Yeah, no more caffeine.
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Head downstream.
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The perfect breeze.
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I look for the glowing tangerine behind the trees and watch as it reappears around the bend. Mountains that look like clouds. It all looks like a painting, like a dream.
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All these emails.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Four
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Slow to rise.
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I look in my hand and realize that I have a beer and not a V8.
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Catching up over coffee.
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Never feels like there is enough time.
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“Why do you think you get to make demands when I am the one paying?” A little smile crosses their face and then the frown returns.
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Almost perfect.
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I laugh at her reaction. It’s only for two days.
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But this upside down peach cake with praline pecans.
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Never enough time.
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Adult table and kid table.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Three
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I remember that she’s coming for yoga today.
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Everything feels tight. I can barely touch my toes in forward fold. That never happens. I am gentle with myself, accepting whatever my body will give me today.
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Soft gray light. The chirping of the birds. Just enough chill in the air to make you want to wrap your hands around something warm. Slippers on.
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We sit together to work on the problems. I remember coordinates.
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He commends me on my patience.
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We watch the scrimmage. Hard for me not to yell and get excited. The woman beside me says something about our energy. I tell her that I coached his basketball team a few years ago and he’s acting like he can’t remember anything I taught him.
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But team Space Jam is having fun.
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More math before corralling the pads and uniforms for tonight’s games.
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“I get pickier and pickier the older I get,” I say to him while half-heartedly eating the burger with a plastic knife and fork. “What are we going to do about dinners during football season. I can’t repeat what we did during baseball.”
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This is going to be a long season.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Two
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Morning meditation.
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What you really are is love. Deviating away from that truth is what causes pain.
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More and more woodpeckers.
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Him in his jersey looking so much older than his age. And when has it ever been this easy to get him out of the door for school?
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Familiar faces from far away.
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I sit on a bench under the breezeway. It is quiet. I scroll through Pinterest while I wait, gather inspiration. I catch myself getting excited at the possibility of making something new. Your surroundings matter.
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I reassure them that we are also so unsure. What is the right thing to do? None us really know.
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Feels cooler than it should.
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“Further, the symbolic meaning of woodpecker indicates a return to our roots, or having trust in our basic (gut) feelings. Dr. Carl Jung observed the woodpecker as a symbol of a return to the womb of creativity. In this observation the tree is symbolic of a womb; earthy, grounded, sturdy and secure. The woodpecker’s home within the tree is analogous of a fierce determination to return and protect that which is sacred to us.”
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More champagne.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & One
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Really can’t sleep in. Not even twenty extra minutes. Where did my morning go?
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Half a cup of coffee. He says I should do the things that make me happy.
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Another orange sun.
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Always learning something new.
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He talks about how the three fires in one week. How the helicopters shake his house. How he’s tired of it.
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This is probably the most right choice.
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Everything is sepia-toned.
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Thick slice of focaccia dipped in olive oil.
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I see little bits of ash still flying around but we’d all rather be outside.
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But we don’t even know if we should be out anywhere doing anything. And yet we both needed this.
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I believe in a lot of things and I really believe in her.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred
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Still no power.
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I lean the flashlight against the mirror to bounce the light around the bathroom. It’s enough to get me ready. Smart move to lay out all the clothes the night before so I wouldn’t have to search in the dark.
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The hum of generators.
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I plug the toaster into one of the surge protectors and find a stick of softened butter on the counter. No clean plates so I lay out the sliced bagels on the last cleanish napkin.
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There is ash on the hood of the car.
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“Is there power in town?” “I don’t know. Probably.” “If we buy a house, can it not be further up the mountain? Can it be in town? I don’t like having to do this.”
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Pinot noir grapes up close. I miss learning about wine.
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She reminds me that I can’t control what happens anyway. What is the worst-case scenario? Probably something I can handle. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” she says. “You’ll find a way to navigate this. You already are.”
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“This is the second time I’ve been left at school.”
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We talk about empathy. How did we come to have it. Why don’t others have it. What are the conditions required to develop it. “I’m going to get a little spiritual and say it has something to do with being an old soul. We’ve been here enough times to understand and know.”
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Can’t find my wallet.
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Beef tacos. Gringo tacos, he calls them.
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Nicolas Feuillatte Reserve Exclusive Brut while the sun sets. Because it’s a Wednesday and there are tiny but good things happening. We can see the light at the end.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Nine
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I push against his back to wake him.
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Headlamps. Where are the headlamps? I remove my sweater. It's too warm for this many layers. Can't find the headlamps.
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“What are you doing? It's almost 3am.”
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Sixty minutes.
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We make the school loop and then head down to pick up the cases.
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Fog sitting below the smokey haze.
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Quiet.
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Leftover potatoes and vegetables for lunch. A few more hours before kids are home again.
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“I don't have time to do anything.” I kind of like that.
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Garage door won't open. “The power is out,” they say. I'd rather be without power that without water.
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I tell him that the interesting thing about this is that life keeps on going. You can't just press pause.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Eight
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Monday morning.
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Thick fog. Humid. Warmer than usual.
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All comfort.
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Banana bread with chocolate chips.
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We drop off two and the head to the doctor’s office. It’s a quiet ride. I turn up Dua Lipa.
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I look at the X-rays as she takes them. Nothing abnormal. Not surprised.
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So freaking hot on the front porch.
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Down the mountain. Up the mountain. Down the mountain.
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I think she and I are thinking the same thing even though neither of us are saying it.
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He doesn’t think I can do it.
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Something tells me to look and see. Things have changed. A ping of sadness that we are no longer sharing these kinds of things—that we no longer share anything at all.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Seven
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Relief.
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Just enough time to brew some decaf.
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I start to drink the coffee and then realize I don’t like it very much at all.
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I order the extra school supplies. I laugh at the $13 binder on her list.
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Green juice and deep conversation outside while the little one is at camp. It doesn’t feel like enough time but it’s better than no time.
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I rub his head and then have to shake the sweat off of my hand. “We didn’t stop moving.”
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It just feels like it’s something that I should do. It wouldn’t be so full of synchronicity if it wasn’t right. Right?
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I made it.
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I somehow missed the memo that he doesn’t like potatoes.
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Of course. There’s always one.