Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Five
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Better wake up now.
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Insulated cup for coffee.
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The hallways is fragrant; she left a candle burning again.
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We begin our practice and I immediately drop into gratitude while looking at the way the light makes the wood walls glow.
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Can always tell when it’s been more than a week.
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Getting closer.
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I didn’t even know he was gone.
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Why are these gourds still here?
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Pork Noodle Soup with Ginger and Toasted Garlic.
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She asks if there is dessert. There isn’t. Now I’m craving ice cream.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Four
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Ready for the extra day off.
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We watch the sunlight slip through the valley, illuminating the pines and the glowing green hills.
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I tell him that really, he is one of the more responsible ones. Even at 10, he gets it in different ways. He’s just smart.
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I read all of my notes and make a list of what was said and what needs to be done.
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What do I need?
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He tells me that my CV is very impressive and that I should be proud of the work I’ve done. And I don’t know why I needed to hear that, but I did, and it almost makes me cry at the table.
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Bus isn’t here yet.
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I keep looking at the scoreboard and I am trying to maintain my composure.
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I tell her that I think the long week is catching up to me.
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If my goal for the season was to make them more confident, and that is what I’m seeing, then I am, indeed successful, no matter the record.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Three
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Less sweaty.
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No more ramen. Granola?
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List-making.
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When was the last time I actually watched the sun rise?
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She tells me about her trip to Turkey and we talk about the poetry of the place.
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Krug.
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Did I expect anything different?
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So many conversations and maybe not enough action?
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I grab a box of pizza and eat it in the car. When you eat breakfast at 5:30 in the morning you can’t not eat until 1pm.
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Not enough energy. I worry about tomorrow. If tomorrow happens.
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Another win for them.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Two
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Late getting downstairs.
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Last package of ramen. I need to add these to the list.
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Hashbrowns and bacon for them. I check my watch. There is still time.
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I get them out on time - early. New episode of the podcast. Something about a levitating nun.
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I look in the rearview mirror and see a face I don’t want to see.
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I tell him that I keep telling my husband that I can’t imagine working in a more beautiful place. “Does it get old?” “I hear it doesn’t.”
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I was overthinking it.
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But what is it that we’re doing?
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Losing my voice.
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Maybe the most exciting 8th-grade basketball game I’ve ever seen.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-One
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No frogs.
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Linty.
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Skip cooking and make them eat cereal.
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He shows me how to mirror the phone to the television so that it’s not just a giant black screen in the background. “What is that?” “A cask at Promontory.”
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“Are you at Meadowood?” “Well. Kind of. I live above it. So no, but also, yes.” And then I realize how absurd that sounds and say a few words of gratitude to myself.
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It’s a lot of pressure.
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Putting together bits and pieces that make the most sense.
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More words of gratitude.
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We laugh. “We’re teaching them two-three zone today. I think they’d rather play than not. They’ve been working hard.”
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I decide to keep it light. Why not? Pain for the sake of pain seems unnecessary in times like these. And, maybe, this is the one place where we all get to have a little bit of fun. I could be projecting.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty
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Easy-up.
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Back to routine.
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Hashbrowns and sausage and coffee.
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I hop into the car with the mug of coffee. The podcast is on. Werewolves. I missed this.
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I like this guy.
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So much sun.
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Too many text messages about canceled games and rescheduled games and how the season will continue.
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“So we’re down to seven?” The gym feels so empty with only nine of us.
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Her shorts are on backward.
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We gather outside at the end and there is still some light left in the sky and I am reminded that summer is coming. Summer is coming.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Nine
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Piecing together things in my dreams.
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So, so cold.
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I’ll let it all stay up until MLK Day.
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Just need to get it done.
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He tells me that he’s made fourteen calls already.
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Negotiating which family member he can bump off of his contact list.
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No rain.
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Load after load after load.
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I tell her about the pencils because I know she will understand.
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Really need to go to bed.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Eight
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First morning light.
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Sunshine turning everything green and brown.
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The store is unusually quiet for this late in the morning.
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I look at the little girl in the stroller and think about the days when my own were that small. “Remember when the most expensive thing you had to get was diapers? Now we’re looking at $400 baseball bats.” We laugh.
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French onion soup and a baguette. We’ll never go back again, but it is tasty.
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Inside, I am losing my patience, but trying to remember that none of this is his fault.
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We all agree to the goals.
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Back to our monthly calls.
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I drive down and meet them at the house. “This is a really nice hoop,” she says to me. The men and I talk Saint Helena sports and their old coaches and the current teams while we fill the base up with water. The sky is clear and you can see every star. Her eyes are also glowing.
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One more day.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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The frogs are back, though it seems a little bit early for them.
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Hydrate first.
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Whereas in other situations I might want to get straight to it, the pacing of right now is just right.
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I have my jacket on and realize that I don’t need to be there for another thirty minutes. We laugh. I do not need to be ready this early.
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Even through the screen, I can feel their energy.
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The three of us work together to bring the firewood down. Bag after bag, log after log. But it goes much faster than last time.
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I tell her that it’s the job I didn’t know I wanted.
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I open the gifts when I get home. A book and a pen.
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Pizza instead of salmon.
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A chorus of frogs before bed.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Six
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Will I ever get back to remembering what day it is without looking at the calendar?
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I drag the light upstairs and set everything up. Two screens because I need one for the camera.
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Notetaking.
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Systems and structures. Systems and structures.
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The bird keeps flying into the window. I try to pretend like it’s not happening.
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Parmesan wrapped in salami.
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What a weird conversation.
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Negative.
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Negative again.
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He walked out of his shoe.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Five
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Too much.
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Just not quite right.
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Need just half an inch.
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Dishes and coffee. Worried about the things that I probably don’t need to worry about.
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I can’t be late. I live too close to be late.
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But really, could I live and work in a more beautiful place?
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No, no, no, no, no. One more.
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I tell him my day has indeed been crazy. Between phone calls and texts with the girls and emails from parents and also trying to think about work.
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Living in a time when “negative” elicits a positive response.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Four
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Waking up to the sound of rain.
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The best thing about break is the way the quiet extends into the morning. No interruptions.
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Still afraid to put a contact in my eye.
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As soon as you step through your breath is gone.
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2012 Dom Perignon.
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Immaculate. But it’s not just that it’s clean. There is a difference between immaculate and sterile. This is nearing perfection. This is care and intention.
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The fog is beginning to lift.
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There are still things to be done.
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Practice is light and fun and there is laughter. And I think we needed that after a game like yesterday.
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Tomorrow will be okay. Better than okay. It will be great.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Three
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Back to routine.
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Perfectly slow. Worth it the early wake-up time.
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Emails.
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So wet and cold. Colder than expected.
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“That looks fun,” she says in passing.
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All I see are text messages that need responding to.
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I ask her if she’s nervous. Of course, she isn’t. I always am. It’s good that we balance each other out.
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He tells me that I’m one more outburst from a technical.
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The thing about game days is that it’s hard to relax.
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“Maybe you have a lot of tension.” - 10-year-old son
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-Two
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Okay.
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The burn!
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I manage to get the contact out. Where are my glasses?
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I remember the extra set of contacts.
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Burn!!!!!!
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At least the sun is out.
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My eye feels heavy.
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A little bit of panic with the pain.
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Ice pack.
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I just need this to stop.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty-One
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I worry that we will all oversleep and he will miss his plane.
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He says he’s been up since 4am. So have I.
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I make a quick pot of coffee and put a few slices of poundcake in paper bowls for the ride.
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Quiet.
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Smooth water and the reflection of the sunrise.
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By the time we are up valley again, it is awash in bright, bright sun.
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Now to cobble it all together.
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What more can I do?
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He says he wants to sleep in his fort.
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Stressed.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty
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In the dream, she sends an email saying that everything is canceled.
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Coffee. And leftover macaroni and cheese.
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Canceled flight. The gift of extra time.
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Foggy brain trying to create.
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I get in the shower and wash my hair, tugging at clumps of curls, thinking about the validity of my fears.
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Resources.
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While the pound cake bakes, I sit back down and pour over the emails and make notes. I feel my chest tighten and get that fluttering feeling at the base of my throat and try to talk the anxiety back down.
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I tell him that I’m just ready for it to be over.
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I make a list of gratitudes.
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Several rousing games of UNO. Even the 14-year-old plays.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Twenty-Nine
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It’s his last day. I feel a wave of sadness.
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I eat a baked potato and listen to the podcast while the rest of the house is still sleeping.
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I gently shake him awake. He turns his head and whispers that he wants to stay home today. I don’t mind.
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I turn onto Main Street and put my hands in my pockets. No keys.
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Sweaty.
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I think I’m being diplomatic. Five years ago, I would have rolled over and given in. As a leader of my team, isn’t it still my responsibility to do what I believe is in their best interest?
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Nap.
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But really, I think I need to make this macaroni and cheese.
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The Matrix Ressurections.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Twenty-Eight
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Don’t forget the donuts.
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I chuckle to myself as I try to find containers with the reddest strawberries for this summery cake the winter baby always asks for.
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I tiptoe around the Christmas day trash still on the floor of her room to wake him up. He remembers to go back and get his water bottle.
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He looks surprised to see us here.
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I take him because I wanted to share with him this small but very important place where I spent a significant amount of time, where I learned a lot about myself and the experience of the past year of my life.
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Live Dungeness crab.
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Tomorrow is his last day.
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He asks me what I think the judges on the Great British Baking Show would say about my cake. “That the sponge is a little stoggy but tastes good.”
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They tell me to calm down and not respond until the next day.
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The day ended better than it started.
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Twenty-Seven
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Quiet, quiet, quiet.
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The whirring of the coffee grinder.
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It’s already time to go.
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Of course, she’s already here. She’s always on time. Always early.
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He builds the nightstand while the two of us clean up the rest of his room.
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The thump, thump, thump of the small inflatable basketball on the floor.
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I realize that this desire to clean is about soothing my nerves.
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She tells me that being nervous is a good sign, that it means I will be just fine.
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We listen to him talk and talk and talk. And we laugh and laugh and laugh. I can’t take my eyes off of him.
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What am I going to put that caramel on?
Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Twenty-Six
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Burning toes.
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Bright light, wet deck, everything glistening.
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I listen to the podcast and nod my head. Yes. That is true. That was a sign. I am not the crazy one.
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The proof is in the paper trail.
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No one is here and that makes for a much more pleasurable experience.
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I don’t understand the prices of clothes.
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We head back home, north on 29, and see one quarter of a rainbow on the west side. We stare and stare and stare, trying to find the other end of it.
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The both of us at the table with our pens and our notebooks and talking about planning and work diaries and I realize the thing he says is actually quite accurate: I am my father’s daughter.
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So, so dark.
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Coaching is more about managing personalities and less about the actual sport.