Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Sixty-One
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Beating the alarm.
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Forcing down breakfast. Wishing for the return of a proper appetite.
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“It’s darkest before the sunrise…”
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This is the last thing I want to be doing.
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Maybe it is because I already know she is someone I can trust.
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She asks me what I need. But that is the problem. I can’t find enough space to even think about what I need. Besides a break. I just need a break.
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“Are you using your gifts?”
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It is clear that this is her talent. She is going to set records here.
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I tell her I feel like I’m just phoning it in.
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Start over tomorrow.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Sixty
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Already?
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I look out the window and see the thick, thick fog, the pale gray light of morning.
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Hot water in the mug.
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Where did I put it?
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“I just want a room,” I say.
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“I’m just about the path of least resistance today.”
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I needed that moment as much as she did.
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He calls and tells me the van blew past the gate. SOS.
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Head spinning.
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All of that for maybe nothing.
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It just helps to know I’m not alone.
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I stare out the window of the cart. Watercolor sky. On the plus side, I get to go home.
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All of the emotions and yet not feeling them at the same time.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-Nine
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Party day.
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Waffles with strawberries for them. Leftover lasagna for me.
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So much. There is so much.
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She texts us the playlist for the car ride there. First up: Britney Spears.
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Forgot to check the gas.
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That feeling when they are old enough and you don’t have to watch them the entire time and can order a beer in the party room and talk with other adults while they jump and play games.
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I am happy with this friend group.
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On the other side of the gas pump she is quietly cursing at him. He was not where he was supposed to be. She is trying to work on the relationship and she doesn’t think he is doing his part. She got a text at 4 in the morning and he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I stop the flow of gas, knowing I have enough to get us all home. I just want to get out of there before she hits him.
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It’s not just me. It really was that bad.
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It can be as good as I want it to be.
Ten.Eight Hundred & Fifty-Eight
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Don’t wanna, but definitely need to.
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Mind racing the entire hour. Can’t even relax in savasana - a rarity. I start out the window at the trees and watch the woodpeckers float from trunk to trunk.
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I make a list of what needs to be done and at what times. There is not much room for anything than what is absolutely necessary.
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Errands this late in the morning are always a bad idea.
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This will surely haunt me.
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Completely different weather this week than last week. Hunting for shade.
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A little bit of rest.
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Rethinking everything.
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But this view.
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A surprisingly fun evening with strangers and friends. Sometimes good comes from the willingness to be open and spontaneous. You just never know sometimes.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-Seven
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The coyotes again. But if I get up to close the window, I’ll never go back to sleep.
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What seems the most practical for today?
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Should I be doing something more? No one told me what was to be expected of me.
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Everyone else seems to be more excited about this than I am.
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The danger of disconnection.
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The list gets longer and longer. Monday is going to be a long day.
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I know just about as much as everyone else.
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But did you read the email?
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It is his birthday and it is an important one and I haven’t been able to do what I wanted. Maybe next time. I’m always saying “next time.”
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He yells at him to pick his head up. Good.
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That one catch almost made up for it. I wish I had been filming that one.
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Really, these boys are so fortunate to have parents who can and will drive 1 hour and 45 minutes to watch them, even when they lose. They will look back on it and know we all tried to never miss a game. These little things matter.
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I finally get back to her text message. She offers herself as a place to land and I take it. The only problem is, when?
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-Six
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Basketball morning.
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Basketball plus gym plus football is really too much.
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I snap a few shots very quickly. This is the spot, the perfect spot for things like this.
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I feel like I’m doing everything and nothing all at the same time.
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But I just need to finish this and then I can move on to the next thing.
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They seem upset that I cut the conversation short. But I really must go. There will be other days.
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Even more improvement.
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I tell her that it’s a lot easier to be angry when you’re losing. They just haven’t had to experience it yet.
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Why does the computer sound like an open can of sparkling water?
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Why all of these headaches?
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-Five
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4:42am. Note to self: Don’t go to bed too early.
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Hot lemon water. Homemade granola with dried cranberries and a splash of oat milk.
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At the stoplight I tap him on the leg, ask him if he can just try to work on a few things. He agrees.
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I’m still all of the things.
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The sounds of harvest preparation. Power washers. Forklifts. Delivery trucks. All of the noise slipping through the cracks of the window.
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Not as many as I’d hoped but good to see some familiar faces.
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“These are grown-up problems,” I say.
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I’m still not sold.
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I do love getting to know her more and more.
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He sounds like I feel.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-Four
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Basketball. You do need to love it to want to be at the gym by 6:15am. The things we do for these kids.
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No coffee, no coffee, no coffee.
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Sometimes you just need to get it off your chest.
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I stay in the car because I still have slippers on.
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I think I’m finally getting it together.
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It really is about the people. It’s the people that can make or break it.
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I knock over my water bottle while on the Teams call and try to figure out how disruptive it would be for me to clean it up while she’s talking about something very serious.
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I text her to tell her about the water spill because only she’ll get it.
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7th-grade girls’ basketball. So good.
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Katya.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-Three
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A little longer.
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Work from home/dentist/open gym attire.
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I stare out into the valley and watch the fog weave its way through the trees. I try to take a picture with my phone, but I can’t quite capture it. Not everything
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She’s talking to me but I can’t hear anything. I keep running my hands over my eyes.
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Nothing he is saying is making it better.
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Sun shower. Rainbow. Clear skies once again.
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Just get me out of this chair.
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This will be good for me. A good dose of endorphins.
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I let the three of them play against the two of us and my youngest. We still beat them 3 out 3 times.
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I’m going to feel this in the morning.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-Two
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In the first dream, I am in a car and I keep taking left turns, but it’s dark and I can’t see so well and I am crossing over lanes of traffic.
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In the second dream, I am in a building, running down a long hallway. I kick open a door and it is not the one I’m supposed to be in. I keep running and running and running, opening doors, going nowhere.
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In the third dream, she is asking me for identification. I keep pulling out different cards. None of them are a picture of me; they are pictures of my grandfather or me and my grandfather.
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In the fourth dream, I take a group of friends up to an apartment. It was supposed to be a nice time, but instead, the woman I took them to see is acting strange - scary strange. I try to get us out of the apartment. Back on the sidewalk, I apologize over and over again.
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I get the point.
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Cool air and the sound of rain. I’ve missed this.
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I tell her I’m not a flake, but the last year is catching up with me.
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Party favors finally ordered.
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Tomato soup, grilled cheese, salad. The comfort of simplicity.
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Try again tomorrow.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty-One
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I almost do not want to get up. But at least the headache is gone.
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Tea time.
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She asks us to set an intention or think of something we are grateful for. I inhale the scent of lemon oil on my hands.
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Probably should get me some ear pods.
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Fingers wrapped in foil. I lay my head down and close my eyes. I can’t fall asleep in the nail salon.
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Color 079.
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The thing is that it feels like there is no right way, no right place, no right time.
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Jackhammer.
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The sound of leaves blowing across the pavement.
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I start to leave but then remember that I have to stay. For the cheerleading.
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The front is blowing in. Can’t wait for a rainy Sunday.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Fifty
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Not a pants kind of day.
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He asks me if I’m the one who put the can of La Croix in the shower. Teenager.
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Dress weather.
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It’s not that I disagree. It’s just that I still have to do this.
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I am sad that she is leaving me.
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The beginnings of a migraine.
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I tell her that it is not that I need to leave, but that I have to get back to boundaries.
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“Cantadora - (Translation) Storyteller; keeper of the tale; folksinger; mystical feminine”
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It always feels like such a long drive.
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Yellow leaves blowing across the road. Fall is coming.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Nine
Morning air.
No coffee. No coffee. No coffee.
Thirteen years old. Two teenagers in the house.
We drive up to Calistoga, through the fog, up the windy road, to go to her favorite bakery. Vanilla iced chai latte, three macarons, a spinach and feta croissant.
Always learning something new.
I really must finish this.
Surprised? Not really. Usually, how one thing starts is how it will end.
I try to use my hot spot in the gym to catch up on work before the game begins but nothing is working. I take it as a sign.
It continues.
After she opens her presents we watch a video from when she was 3 years old, on her birthday, opening presents. Pinky Pie pony and Hello Kitty. Things have changed.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Eight
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This is more like it.
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I’m still confused about what is happening today.
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Those moments of time where it is just you and the dark and the quiet.
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What is this really about?
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Leafblower.
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Progress?
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He tells me that I look refreshed. I tell him I decided I needed to go back to working from home more. I had to reprioritize again.
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But the weather today - that is the real gift.
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Schramsberg Blanc de Blanc. Truffle fries with parmesan. Olives. Burger - no bun. Polenta Gateau with stone fruit. The company is the best part.
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Really just waiting for this toenail to fall off.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Seven
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What day is it?
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Is it the day I quit the coffee again? No. Let’s think of something else.
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The source of the soreness.
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Lower and lower and lower.
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It feels busy for a Tuesday.
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I decide to walk from my office to old reception. I make a pitstop at the gatehouse to reassess. But it is a beautiful day and I need the exercise.
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Sweet Chili Doritos.
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A little bit of laughter goes a long way.
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All things considered…
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Everything with a grain of salt.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Six
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Right on time.
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But really I do have a choice in all of this.
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He says it’s been quiet up there.
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I make a list of the small but important things that must be done.
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“The clown is the unsocialized self… It’s the person who’s never been told no. What would you be like in your body if you’ve never been told ‘no’ or ‘be quiet’ or ‘sit still’ or ‘you’re too much of this and not enough of that’? If we can get out of that social body, what is left behind is a kind of beautiful playfulness and audacity.” - Jonathan Majors
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For a few minutes, it feels like the old times.
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Sometimes what you need is just that one person who speaks a little confidence into you.
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How did I think this would only be an hour?
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Two.
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Small steps.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Five
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Blurry eyes.
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Overcast morning. No red sunrise. Coffee percolating. Leftover garlic knots.
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Morning yoga. Should not have had the bread.
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Four baskets of laundry and water and coffee. Overcast skies. Quiet.
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Wishing time would slow down.
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He was so tiny. Could fit him in the crook of my arm.
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I let him tell the story to start because it is that funny. I am laughing so hard that I am crying. But I haven’t heard anything in the attic since that night.
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The cookies must be in the oven. Scents of baking spice and butter wafting up into the bedroom.
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If I am going to be working on something, I’m glad it’s this.
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If I say it out loud enough maybe I’ll believe it, too.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Four
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Morning light.
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Another red sun. Coffee percolating. Waiting for the bacon.
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The quiet beauty of dead and dying flowers: anemones, roses, dahlias, calla lilies, chocolate cosmos.
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Saturday football. There are worse ways to spend the day.
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Always put in a load before you leave.
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We are right on the field and in the sun. Shorts would have been a better idea. I still don’t know how to dress for the weather.
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Cool breezes providing relief.
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I flip over the final page. There is still more work to be done.
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Pizza for dinner.
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A day of real rest.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Three
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Oh, no. Another one down.
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Red sunrise. The effects of smoke drifting in from the fires north and east of here.
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6am football practice.
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I tell her all of the things that have brought us to this moment. I listen to the words fall from my mouth. Yes. This is the truth, as wild as it seems.
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Too much caffeine.
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Yes, he is definitely sick.
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Lessons learned.
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It’s already been two hours.
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Their reaction is the same as mine and so I feel a little more justified about my feelings.
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Nothing is that urgent.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Two
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Not enough time.
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He drives him. I stay back and throw a load into the wash and contemplate the day.
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The light is too good.
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I’m doing it again and I know I’m doing it again.
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The sound of helicopters hovering overhead. I keep looking toward the sky and see nothing.
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But this light.
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I watch the number on the scale climb. It does not surprise me. I can feel these six pounds.
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She keeps prefacing everything with a disclaimer: “It’s not that you’re old, you are not old…”
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It’s almost time.
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It’s up to me.