Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Six
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Better today.
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Comfort over everything else.
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The coffee is too close to the top of the cup. I try to take large sips as I round the curb so that it doesn’t spill over the top.
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Now it’s time to get creative.
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She was born on a farm in the midwest. The name that comes up when her social security number is pulled is not exactly the same as the name that’s on these papers. Her husband is in an assisted living facility and can’t remember where he put all the papers. I can hear the panic in her voice. How, exactly, are we all supposed to get Real IDs?
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I tell her I’m excited because I am finally, officially a Californian. “You just got your license today? How long you been there?”
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Rare to stop and talk to two neighbors while walking up and down the mountain.
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But on the bright side, at least there is more time.
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Really, I’m just nervous.
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Tomorrow.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Five
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When will we be able to sleep again?
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Even in the dark, you can see the thick fog filling the valley.
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How is it already time?
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Speak of the Devil.
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“They had the audacity,” I text.
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The things we are saying are the things we really mean to say.
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The energy is off. I am okay with this not happening.
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Nothing good comes from desperation.
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But really the audacity.
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No appetite.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Four
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2am. A man stumbles down the stairs and cannot stand. He is doubled over. I back up slowly down the hallway. He throws up. I back away. He throws up some more. And more. He mumbles something and then starts to eat what he’s thrown up. I run away. A legitimate nightmare.
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I should try to go back to sleep.
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What else for today?
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Slow, slow, slow.
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Filling out the roster and the schedule and everything is starting to feel real and I am feeling nervous.
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Not what I needed.
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Still riding the coaster.
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I keep looking at the clock.
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Family call.
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It’s almost over. But it’s also not.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Three
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How am I going to teach them offense today?
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The fog is still thick. It feels like what I think it feels like in the Pacific Northwest. Cool and dense and moody.
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“Looks like you’re feeding a lot of people.” I wonder if it is just that the size of our family is uncommon in this part of the country. In the midwest, everyone has big families.
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Eight out of ten.
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By golly, I think they’ve got it.
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Nothing speaks to me and so I leave them be.
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Turns out crowded sidewalks still make me nervous.
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Fear and then anger and then fear and then anger and then fear again.
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Forgot to finish vacuuming.
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Great British Baking Show.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Two
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I try to find my nose ring with my eyes closed.
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Hashbrowns with coffee.
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Why can’t I find the right envelopes?
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Where is everyone?
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I worry that I accidentally topped the wrong barrels but I double-check the list and remember that I only did the ones with the upturned bungs and that means that I should have done everything right. But did I?
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Window screens.
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I sit on the asphalt and stare out over the vineyard. Gold and green and pops of red. Bright light. Gratitude. “Moana” soundtrack in the background.
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Champagne and Model Bakery.
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I realize I need two things this season: pants with pockets to keep me from gesturing and gum to keep me from yelling.
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Why are there already wreaths on the lampposts? The flags from Veteran’s Day are still up.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-One
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Early, but not as early.
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Cold feet. Where are my slippers?
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Burnt bacon. That seems about right for a week like this one.
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Graduated to the parking lot.
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I end up saying a lot more than I meant to say, but it was a lot of truth, and that was necessary for explaining the whole thing.
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Tasting Malbec from the keg and this is when I get wine on the sweater.
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A little panicked.
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We stand by the doors and watch him play with the big kids. The big, big kids. He doesn’t look so small running with the 16- and 17-year olds. “He’ll be here next year, you know,” I say. “I know.” “High school. High school,” I say.
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Just can’t seem to look away.
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“I can’t believe tomorrow is the last day.”
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty
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3:28am.
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Side effects?
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I sit
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I have a good idea where it is, but it’s too dark to go looking for it.
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An attempt, at least.
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Wet leaves on the sidewalk. Yellow and brown and red. There is no sunshine here yet.
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Her face contorts itself as we relay the story and it’s her reaction that is validating.
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Will just haunt them instead.
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“I’m not going to cry at work,” I say to myself as I walk up the drive.
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There is still so much for them to learn.
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Not hungry, but hungry.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Nine
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I already know before I look at the clock.
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My mind runs through all of the things.
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Found the hashbrowns.
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Salad and soup. Gluten-free Tate’s chocolate chip cookies. A cup of decaf coffee.
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I sit on a bucket and scrub down the ladder. My mind drifts to things I’d rather not think about. But scrubbing is the best thing I could be doing.
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The stab of uncertainty.
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Tomorrow.
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What if there is nothing that can be done?
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Running helps, too.
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They have a Christmas tree up. I’m not mad about it.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Eight
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Cold, but not too cold.
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Deep sigh because this is a low-key kind of morning.
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I brush my teeth and hear the owl. I wash my face and hear it again. I can’t remember the last time I heard, but it seems significant.
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“Protected by God.”
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Stick potatoes in oven. Caramelize the onions. Cook the bacon. There is time for this.
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Grateful for the slow passage of time.
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A little bit of doubt creeps in but I remember that I am just doing what my gut says is the right thing to do.
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Still don’t get it.
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On brand.
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Easy dinner thanks to a neighbor. I look at the label: “Narrow Bridge”. I laugh.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Seven
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Body aches. A culmination of things. Moving slowly.
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A series of odd dreams with familiar faces and places, songs, and me uttering phrases that do not make sense, except for this one: It is good to have you back.
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Cold.
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The space between feels heavy.
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We drive down the trail in silence. I stare out over the vineyards and the hills and the wispy clouds. Golden light spilling into the shadows between the rows.
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This year, I will be better.
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Being a teenager is rough.
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I keep reminding myself that is this isn’t us. This is us under these really bizarre and uncomfortable circumstances. This is temporary.
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But when will we feel normal again?
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I really do genuinely like these people.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Six
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So cold.
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Out of coffee.
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Empty streets. Catching the colors of sunrise.
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No one is here yet.
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Part of the frustration is my own fault. Did I communicate effectively? Did I make assumptions? How do we not have it happen again? Was the buy-in is not as strong as I thought?
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More coffee.
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Everywhere I go, I am cold.
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Inside my head, there exists a list of things that must be done but I cannot see the words. Too tired to think, I think.
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I make a pot of tea and find a collection of stories by Alice Munro to read. This one is dog-eared. I will start with this one.
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Lights on. Voices. He’s rummaging through baskets of clothes. I yell at him to move faster, he’s taking too long, his friends are waiting.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Five
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A better night of sleep.
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The colder it gets, the longer the walks to the bathroom.
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We get the kids to school early enough to have some quiet before she comes. I tell him that I miss these kinds of mornings…the slow mornings.
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Incense, coffee, soft light coming in through the windows.
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But in no way will I allow them to take this away from me.
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I grind the spices for the Cubeb Spiced Shortbread. I weigh the risk and rewards of truthtelling. There is just as much harm in silence.
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We squeeze in a few minutes with the neighbors and drink a little bit of wine. It is getting dark and cold.
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There are a lot of people here and it makes me a little uncomfortable.
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I sometimes forget that I have no poker face.
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Just when I was getting better.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Four
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Slightly better.
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Where are the dried cranberries?
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Something about this yellow suit that makes me want to dance.
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I really think I’m going to miss the feeling of dipping my hands in a warm bucket of peroxy.
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Jimmy’s got to go.
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I did it. I finally swiped the side of the car against the bridge.
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I always feel like I’m trespassing.
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They seem to be surprised or confused. Maybe my approach is unconventional. But I think this is a good way to do it.
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Spicy meat balls.
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I don’t think there’s any way to buff that out.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Four
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Dark, dark, dark.
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It sounds silly but I think I should be waking up earlier.
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It’s not me. It’s their own fear. The fear is valid. But what I’ve learned is that there are no good decisions to be made when rooted in fear. Besides, I’ve already lived my worst-case scenario and I know that will never happen again.
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Finally a response but not enough time for me to pull it all together before I need to leave. It will be okay. Between the three of us, we can figure it out.
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Running late which means making a very inefficient loop for drop-off.
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I slow my steps to look out through the roll-up door and out into the vineyard. The morning light makes everything glow. It looks peaceful. It looks clear and crisp and quiet.
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I scrub fittings and run through the outline for practice. What should we add? What should we skip? Am I overthinking all of this?
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Time is of the essence.
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I drink a glass of rosé while waiting for the order.
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Inspirational quotes.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Three
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1:10am.
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2:43 am.
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4:22 am. I am not surprised that I cannot sleep. I should probably just get up and get to work. I close my eyes.
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The turtle neck and white pants. It feels good to put on real clothes.
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Thank goodness the camera is off and I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
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But really. So many soprano solos.
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I miss the frenzy.
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I watch the hummingbird flit about the winery. Are they looking for a way out? Are they confused? I still take it as a good omen.
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One more. We will be okay. We will be okay.
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I could eat more, but I need to save it for tomorrow’s lunch.
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I just really want the Braves to win.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Two
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They’re right. This should have been a day off.
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I realize that I am more nervous about today than the past days. Who will show up? Will there be new faces? Can I really do this?
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Honestly, I could use a day of solitude.
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I catch myself before I get in too deep.
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We decide who’s bringing what and I’m genuinely glad that it’s not over yet.
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I tell him that I’m not surprised, that while I was cleaning the tanks and had all that time to think that I thought exactly this. And so, in a way, I am not surprised. It is very on brand.
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Two new faces. I really didn’t think she would come back.
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They just can’t know that I’m nervous, too.
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The best grades he’s had in years.
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I think of how she told the girls that basketball will prepare you for life. That sometimes basketball is hard and life is sometimes hard. She is not wrong.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-One
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The sound of rain hitting the rooftop.
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One thick slice of banana walnut bread, toasted, a smear of soft butter. Hot coffee.
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Today is going to be a long day.
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Only three pumpovers and a punch down. The end is near.
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Sausage breakfast burrito.
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It’s really such a pretty sight: barrels lined up outside of the cave, the overcast skies, the yellow and orange leaves. And it’s so quiet.
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Multiple kids at this age on a day like today is always anxiety-inducing.
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I ask him how he’s liking his first Halloween in Saint Helena. He approves. I tell him that I do, too.
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Gratitudes.
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Tomorrow will be an even longer day.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy
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Already 7am.
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I stare out over the muddy water in the pond. I wonder how many months of rain it will take to make it clear again. Or will they find some way to filter it out?
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Three day-old loaves and a box of fresh pastries.
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I see that he has a basket full of advent calendars. The advent calendars are already out? Where did he get those?
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Only two months.
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Chainsaw.
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Chicken noodle soup.
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Can I do fast math in my head?
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Tiny pink clouds on the horizon. I stare at them and everything around me fades away.
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But also, I’m kind of glad it’s over. On to the next.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Sixty-Nine
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But the good thing is that I get to lay here.
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A disaster. I push the dirty dishes aside and clean off the cutting board. Where is the tablespoon?
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How quickly can I clean these bathrooms?
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Her hand in a mudra and the light hitting her just right. The same light illuminating the edge of the fireplace. It is quiet. Not even a chainsaw this morning.
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I go with the turtleneck. I will probably regret it later.
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A nut with each course.
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“Octavia Butler,” she says. “Parable of the Sower?” I say as I touch her arm. “I mean, it sounds like we need to buy our land further north, right?” “But that county gives unfriendly vibes.” She assures me that it is unfriendly. “People go missing and stay missing up there.”
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This feels like a puzzle that can’t be solved.
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This is it. The real fun begins next week.
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“I used to dream about dinners like these.”
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Sixty-Eight
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Still can’t remember what day it is.
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The quiet.
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They don’t look too excited about this new route. But it is indeed so much faster. Thank goodness.
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On time.
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The car behind me wants me to go faster but I really can’t go much faster than I already am. Plus, there is too much to look at: the layers of fog, a fan spinning rapidly out in a vineyard, people in bright orange vests moving in and out of the vines, the soft and watery light of morning.
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So much has happened in this long/short period of time.
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I explain to her why the joke is funny. I laugh to myself. I realize that I might think it’s funnier than it actually is.
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Okay. So it’s not just me.
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This is exciting.
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I have tomorrow off.