Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Four
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In the dream, we are now trapped in the car. There is water all around us, milky and rising. There is nowhere to go. I am panicking, we cannot find our cars, we are all crying.
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I wake myself up, still awash with a sense of dread.
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Finally, coffee.
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I turn around and look at her. Tank top. No sweater. It’s 41 degrees. Can you even wear straps that thin? “Find something now,” I say, knowing full well the sweater will be off once she gets to school.
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We are ready to conquer the morning. Only 25% of the shoot left to complete.
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I bring him the Wall Street Journal. Tell him that it usually goes in the recycling bin because I never make time to sit and read it. I'm glad to pass it on to him so he can enjoy such a momentous occasion.
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I forgot to give him the covid test. When can I come? I have no idea. I don't know when I can escape, I tell the nurse. I put down the phone and stare out at the tops of the trees. It just is what it is.
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Sweating as we remove the covers. Birds nests falling out of the umbrellas. This is process we will continue to refine.
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We talk about what we think we’d like to be doing in 10 years. “I really don't know, Yoshi. I’m just trying to get to the point where I can live in my little cabin on the coast and farm a little bit and maybe become a potter.” “That is the goal, isn't it?” he confirms.
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More forgetting.
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“Your instincts were right.”
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Three
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Birdsong.
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He says he will miss this place, but I know the next place offers its own kind of sanctuary.
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What am I missing? How can I give it to myself? What expectations need to shift?
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Bacon and waffles and orange juice.
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How are they already awake?
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There is never as much time as you think.
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If I am not going to be at home, at least I am somewhere beautiful and quiet.
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We talk to each other, artist to artist. Think about framing, struggle with the fringe on the blanket, wait patiently for the cheese plate, chase the sun.
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I do seem to get mired down in the details of things. Maybe I would be happier if I didn’t.
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Long, long, day.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Two
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No alarm, but still up before the first light.
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Model Bakery for coffee and a ham and cheese croissant. This one is a day old.
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“The real questions are, what do you treasure? and how much do you treasure it?”
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Writing emails to the thuds of the basketballs hitting the floor.
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Sunny Saturday and softball. Green ridges and blue sky.
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Milkshakes in the afternoon. Vanilla with rainbow sprinkles for me. Cookies and cream for the boys.
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I should stay and do the laundry but pool time sounds like a better way to spend a Saturday.
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Maybe I am more stubborn than I think I am.
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Reframing.
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Where can we simplify?
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-One
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Forgot to give him his Covid test.
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The line is particularly long this morning and then I remember that it's spring and Friday and that equals tourists.
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She doesn't have an agenda for today and she is short with her words. Last night exhausted her.
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Bright, bright light.
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I think I am remembering everything. What would Danielle do?
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I will figure it out.
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Sick. No. Not sick. Just stressed.
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Everyone isn’t capable of doing it, otherwise it would have been done.
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I listen to their conversation, their laughter. Their happiness makes me happy.
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So tired.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty
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Out of coffee. I dig out the Nespresso, fill it with fresh water, and then walk away.
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Frantically trying to move all of the clothes off of the floor and stuffing the laundry room.
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I rub his shoulder to wake him up. The first thing he says to me is, “Can we talk more about the house tonight? Just talk about some plans?”
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I see the text as I walk back into the house. Throw-up. Need stomach medicine.
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I start to talk but I can’t.
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Who said it was supposed to rain?
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It’s just been a very long week. A very long week.
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Still sound like a frog.
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I never did make that Nespresso. Is that why I feel like crying? The lack of caffeine?
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We sit and listen and wait. We text each other in between. We make side-eye glances and roll our eyes. Others speak. I feel the energy shift within my body. We are supported. They are all on our side.
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“10 years from now, 20 years from now, 30 years from now, [the children] who experience racism will remember it for the rest of their lives. The perpetrators will not.”
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Change is slow but it is in motion. That was worth sitting for 2.5 hours on a Thursday night.
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I tell him that I’m so tired that I could cry.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Nine
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So many clothes on the bathroom floor.
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The need for a little drama.
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Sometimes people just need an ear and to feel heard and maybe…what if that was all I did?
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What a gift to work in such a beautiful place.
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I think of the phrase he shares all the time: Never forget what you had to do to get here.
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I tell her that I’m just feeling a little lost this week.
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Chop salad. Risotto with Alaskan Halibut. Pinot Grigio, something Italian that I can’t remember. Apple Crisp and espresso.
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The first thing they do is check out the appliances. I laugh to myself. They note the amount of storage on the door of the refrigerator.
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“Well, he didn’t run out of the house. And I take that as a good sign.”
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So much work that still needs to be done.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Eight
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Strange dreams.
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Grinding beans, pondering the meaning of life, feeling gratitude for the little bit of wisdom I’ve acquired in this life, wanting to go back to sleep.
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Shift in plans.
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Was this the day we were supposed to be in person?
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There are benefits to physically sharing space and yet, I am so much more productive when alone.
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No pressure.
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They both forgot their cleats.
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They joking refer to their sports not being a sport. Nine men and four women. I wonder if it is some kind of inside joke. It’s still not funny.
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The game is now at home. There goes making dinner. I run home and change clothes, grab the big coat, get sandwiches and chips from Sunshine.
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He runs home on a hit. The ball gets to the infield and is in the catcher’s mitt. The catcher reaches out his arm to tag him. He jukes the catcher and taps his foot on the base. I wish I had recorded that one.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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Cold, cold, cold.
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Grateful for a slower start to the morning.
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Too much coffee?
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The changing color of the light as the morning hours pass.
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I remind myself that the only person I can control is myself. Others’ emergencies do not belong to me. I can choose to move slowly, deliberately, without apology. I can set boundaries.
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More potatoes for lunch.
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Going with the flow.
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The gift of more time.
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I show him the email. He reads it the same way I do. “I knew this was going to happen. But you see, it’s so hard for a man to have a woman tell him what to do.”
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Manage expectations.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Six
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Not quite time.
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The crackling of the fire.
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If I could just keep my shoulders down and away from my ears.
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But really, next year, I am going to have someone else do this.
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“I just like the feeling of Christmas.”
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I watch her stare out of the window as we head down the highway. I talk about the differences in the mountain ranges that line the valley. I am grateful for how much I still love to stare at the nature around us.
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Potatoes, prime rib, asparagus.
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Just want to sleep.
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Staring out over the vineyard as the sun sets.
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Really, we are so lucky.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Five
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He actually set his alarm.
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We let him get a coffee. He thinks he needs it. He probably does. I remind myself that I was drinking coffee way before 14 and I am just fine.
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I forgot about Easter.
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It’s going just like I thought it would.
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In many ways I don’t feel as new as I should feel. This is a good thing.
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No rest for the weary.
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The day dreams are not going away.
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0 for 4 today.
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I hope they still appreciate it.
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Can’t have the Sunday scaries on Saturday.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Four
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Car accidents and lizards.
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I hear his door open and know that he’s down here to go on a bagel run. I offer Model Bakery instead. He sticks with the bagels.
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“Are you sure you don’t want Model? Last chance.” Safeway bagels it is.
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He tells me he had a nightmare. In his nightmare, he was leaving a water park and there were lots of tremors. “I should probably not watch movies about natural disasters.”
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I tell him about my nightmare: “I kept being attacked by medium-sized lizards. Medium-sized. Not big ones.”
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Sun.
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I tell her that our conversations are real. Not depressing, but real.
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Of course.
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So, so cold.
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Probably needed another pizza.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Four
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Is that rain I hear?
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The water is a little yellow and a little smelly and maybe the water was like this before, but it' definitely has been worse since the fire.
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Coffee in the tiny cup so I can have a little bit more.
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Last day of school for the week.
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Those are reassuring words - even if I still feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.
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I pull over and take a picture of the flowers on the vine. It is still raining. It is quiet. It is the kind of weather that makes you want to lay down in some dark place with your eyes closed, tucked under a warm blanket.
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I tell him that I did a lot of adulting today. I did not produce much, but I had important conversations.
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But how do we work to set each other up for success?
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Still daydreaming.
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Nothing is wasted.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Three
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But don’t really want to get up.
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Cold toes.
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I should probably not be cleaning but I can’t help it.
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Early release day, but maybe they shouldn't be home early.
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Should I be eating right now?
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This is what happens when you move too quickly. Slow it down.
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I place my hand on my heart and say “thank you” so many times. She has no idea how much this has made my week.
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He says it’s cheaper than therapy, so why not?
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But I just settled into the idea of this being it, the only place, that we were not going anywhere. And so it’s hard for me to shift gears so quickly. I try to imagine it. I can’t.
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I wonder if it’s somehow my own fault.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Two
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Frost machine.
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The slow drip of morning light.
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His legs are covered in goosebumps.
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I take the long way back home.
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Uninspired.
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Gratitude for a lunch made from leftovers.
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I made it to the game.
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“An out-of-control control burn,” she says. “On Howell Mountain Road,” she says.
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I take my meal home. But first, I shower.
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I tell him that I am really peopled out. I just needed to wash away the day.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-One
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Almost cold.
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Hunting in the dark for slippers.
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Three cards, all of them contrary. Uh-oh.
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Hot coffee in a small cup. Tips of fingers burning.
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The sound of large limbs hitting the roof and rolling onto the deck. Pine needles everywhere. Sometimes, the trees sway so much they look as though they might snap in half.
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I step out onto the deck in hopes to feel the heat of the sun but I am just cold instead.
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How is it already 1 o’clock?
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This handful of sentences feels hard to write. What else to do but take a break. I turn on Dua Lipa and dance in hopes that it will shake something loose.
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Frito Misto, meatballs over polenta, caesar salad, tricolore, margarita pizza, gnochetti with lamb ragu.
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Past my bedtime.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty
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Cool.
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No breakfast, just hair.
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I give in. Bridgerton it is.
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Almost done.
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I stand outside with him and feel the warmth of the sun on my face. He’s talking about something but I am not really listening. I am just feeling.
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The sound of the wind through the trees.
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I tell them that at the next meeting I will apologize - not for what I said, but for not offering solutions.
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Still.
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“There seems to be no place in society for us except at the edge of things.”
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One more before bed.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty-Nine
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Today, we start out standing, staring out toward the trees.
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Reflections in the coffee.
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This one find was worth it.
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Blessed. We walk into the town square and find coffee and a pastry. The sun is bright. There are people everywhere. He says he’s glad we live somewhere smaller.
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Tough loss.
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We end up eating out anyway.
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Bikers. Black bikers. They are undoubtedly heading back down valley after gathering at Buster’s. We nod at each other as they pass by. George Clinton and Janet Jackson and Stevie Wonder blaring from the motorcycles.
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Feeling strong.
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Popcorn for dinner.
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Length check.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty-Eight
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So grateful for the cool mornings.
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The birdsong gets louder and louder right before the sun rises.
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She sends me a picture of the beach and the ocean. Nothing else in the text. Just the pictures.
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It feels like there is something else I should be doing.
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Bright, bright sun.
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She sends a picture of the three of them with the same shoes. They bought the same shoes.
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Clean garage.
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I keep looking for snakes.
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I like her.
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Regretting I didn’t make time to get myself to the ocean.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty-Seven
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Slowly.
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Clarifying questions of self.
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To sit and drink coffee without interruption is a gift.
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After the call I yell out his name. No answer. I look for his shoes under the bench: red pair, blue pair, black pair. What is missing? The baseball cleats.
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Down the mountain again. Maybe that option will work.
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I hear how it is sounding as it’s coming out of my mouth and even though I think I’m speaking without emotion, I know how it’s landing and there’s no way to keep it from landing like it is.
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Maybe I should have said nothing.
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He gives the barber a fist bump before heading out.
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I sit on the edge of the garden bed under an arch of braided wisteria branches. The flowers are not yet in bloom. It is a perfect little house, but not the perfect little house for us.
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Vanilla milkshake with rainbow sprinkles.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty-Six
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Coffee.
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I watch the colors of morning reveal themselves through the V-shaped opening in the trees.
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There is no where to rush to today.
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Now everyone has plans.
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Sun so bright I have to shield my eyes from the light. I must look ridiculous on the Zoom.
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She tells me that she's excited about summer this year because now she has friends.
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He sends me a video of the boys floating in the little bit of water in the river. A sweet moment.
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I could scream.
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It is quiet except for the occasional sound of a table saw. Or maybe it is not that quiet. Maybe I've just become accustomed to the constant sounds of chainsaws and helicopters and leaf blowers that all of it is just white noise.
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I wait to make my turn off the bridge, think of how far we’ve come. I remember when this was just a dream.