Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Eight

1. I hear a lot of rustling. They better not be eating candy.

2. The irony of spending hours collecting stuff that I ultimately just want to throw away.

3. Scones. It’s still so dark. I am still thinking of last night and the feelings and reminding myself that I did and am doing the best I can.

4. Weak decaf coffee in a styrofoam cup. White, shiny tile floor. Gray light pouring in through tall windows. It’s a quiet morning in the dealership. It takes way less time to sell a car than it does to buy it. I’m going to miss those gigantic cup holders.

5. Speed clean.

6. The nervous excitement in his voice. Sometimes we dreamers guard our dreams a little too fiercely.

7. I meet with all the teachers. Everyone expresses disappointment and sadness in them leaving. I’m still so new to this school that I can’t really find any of the classrooms. I fill out the paperwork for withdrawal. “Next Wednesday,” I say.

8. Homemade spaghetti sauce, chianti classico, two extra children at the dinner table. I am telling myself to remember that this feels good. That even though I think I can’t handle the energy of extra children, that I can find the joy in feeding them a good meal. That having a table full of laughter is a great thing. And I hope that our table continues to be one where kids feel comfortable being themselves.

9. Resting bitch face probably also doesn’t help very much.

10. It’s our last Thursday.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Eight

1. I hear a lot of rustling. They better not be eating candy.

2. The irony of spending hours collecting stuff that I ultimately just want to throw away.

3. Scones. It’s still so dark. I am still thinking of last night and the feelings and reminding myself that I did and am doing the best I can.

4. Weak decaf coffee in a styrofoam cup. White, shiny tile floor. Gray light pouring in through tall windows. It’s a quiet morning in the dealership. It takes way less time to sell a car than it does to buy it. I’m going to miss those gigantic cup holders.

5. Speed clean.

6. The nervous excitement in his voice. Sometimes we dreamers guard our dreams a little too fiercely.

7. I meet with all the teachers. Everyone expresses disappointment and sadness in them leaving. I’m still so new to this school that I can’t really find any of the classrooms. I fill out the paperwork for withdrawal. “Next Wednesday,” I say.

8. Homemade spaghetti sauce, chianti classico, two extra children at the dinner table. I am telling myself to remember that this feels good. That even though I think I can’t handle the energy of extra children, that I can find the joy in feeding them a good meal. That having a table full of laughter is a great thing. And I hope that our table continues to be one where kids feel comfortable being themselves.

9. Resting bitch face probably also doesn’t help very much.

10. It’s our last Thursday.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Seven

1. Maritza was a ticket agent but she couldn’t help me. No one could help me get the rest of the 5 boarding passes. I just wanted to get home.

2. My phone says that it’s a planning day. Meaning, I have to schedule the transport of the car and prepare the other for sale, call the new school to see if there’s room for my kids and decide on a start day, wait for boxes to be delivered, arrange funds, pack.

3. Hot water with lemon in front of the fireplace. The sound of something clinking against the dryer drum, rain drops on window screens refracting the light.

4. The school secretary seems dismissive but then I realize that I called her right at the beginning of the school day.

5. Maybe it’s adrenaline but I’m not hungry at all.

6. She’s late but also on time. I wish that it hadn’t had to be like this for all of these years. I still mourn what could have been.

7. It’s really the most perfect kind of weather for Halloween. Last year was so cold; the year before that I think was a little rainy. Or maybe that was the really warm day? Today is really beautiful and I don’t mind standing outside in the line to watch the parade.

8. Everyone seems to be a little out of sorts. She gives me a hug and apologizes for talking back. I tell her that it’s okay. We’re all a little stressed and tired.

9. The kids want to trick-or-treat with friends. I try to explain that in the old neighborhood we had friends and those kinds of plans but that I did not hear anything from anyone about groups and so, like last year, we’ll walk together as a family and then see what happens.

10. He says that maybe in the next city I shouldn’t talk so openly in my social media posts about my discomforts or observations about where I live. That maybe that kind of honesty creates distance. That people don’t understand me. I try to think about all the things that I might have wrote 1.5 years ago. “You’re warm,” he says, “but only after you get to know someone.” I tell him that friendships also take time and that we were barely here. But I am feeling judged.

10.1 He opens old wounds. I’ve spent a lot of my life learning how to belong. And I did try here too. Two dinner parties, an herbal workshop, an attempt at a wine and poetry reading. I did try. And if nothing else, I was just being myself. I am spiraling into all the ways I might have offended my neighbors with what I perceived to be openness that could have come across as judgement. I am reminded to mind my words. I’m also reminded that this is the danger of thinking you can know someone through this digital realm only.

10.2 I’ll try again and do better or differently in the next place.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Six

1. I thought it was my alarm but it’s my mother calling me from Tel Aviv. She wants to know which pair of earrings I want.

2. Still so dark. What’s for breakfast? I’ll let them eat those donuts. I’ll run out and get coffee.

3. Coffee and candy corn.

4. I sit at the table and write out the recipe for roasted chicken. He says, “You should MAKE it and then give them this card.” I tell him that most people don’t want to eat hot chicken at 9:30 in the morning.

5. Auditing time. I set a timer for Instagram. You can really do that now. And it tells me that I’ve already reached an hour. The thing is, though, that what I often do is set my phone on the counter and let the stories run through so that I can get back to seeing the stuff from people I really want to see. So I’ve already met my time limit, even though I technically haven’t been on Instagram. Hmmm.

6. I make us take a group photo. We scrunch together on the sofa in front of the canvas of the trees. They are all little rays of light to me. I’m trying to do like what Michael did on his last day at Dunder-Mifflin. Just…let’s pretend that this is a normal day. I want to see you in the usual context. I don’t want the memory to be of good-bye. I want to remember the way we circled and ate and talked and prayed.

7. Hard cider.

8. I could say that nothing got accomplished today but that’s a lie. My heart has done heavy lifting.

9. The sound of rain against the roof.

10. I know the tears will come later.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Five

1. No one wants to get boo’d by their kid at 6 am.

2. Forgot to get coffee. Will be a morning for hot tea instead.

3. I cave and buy a large coffee from starbucks on my way home. He’s off to get an x-ray of his chest and I have piles and piles of laundry to fold.

4. Three boxes of books and back issues of Wine Spectator to Half Price Books. She gives me $4 for the lot and seems surprised when I take it. “I’m moving. Anything is better than nothing,” I say with a smile and then put that $4 towards a copy of “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.”

5. We use a calculator to figure out how many boxes to order from the movers. I hope this is enough. You don’t realize how much you until you begin to pack it up all over again. And I wasn’t even in this house long enough to accumulate anything.

6. Rectangles of sun. I could lie here all day.

7. All of the logistics make my head spin. I keep saying, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

8. I know what to do.

9. 4 wines, 2 white and 2 red. I guess the first one pretty easily. The second one is a little harder. The 3rd is kind of challenging but I get the 4th pretty quickly because we just had 2 bottles of it the night before. What a fun way to prepare for examinations.

10. I check the owner’s dashboard again to see if there’s anything else I need to know. There’s nothing. Just the countdown until we close. From that date I subtract one for the day we leave. Then I subtract one more to get to the day the movers arrive. 9 days.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Four

1. Still so dark but it’s 6:23. I see a text from my mom. They are on their way to Jerusalem.

2. Contemplating a sunrise walk even though the sky is covered over with thick gray clouds. I make coffee and fill a bowl with cereal and flax milk.

3. The sound of tape stretching across a box.

4. I park under the maple and its bouquet of red leaves. The wind is blowing everything around. It’s snowing leaves.

5. I decide to start from the very beginning. I hear the wisdom that I needed to hear. I think about whether or not I like how Christian this is. I think about the conversations we’ve had in mom’s group about how one’s relationship with God changes shape over time. I am still not sure where I am on the line between belief and disbelief.

6. But my kind faith doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. And then I see A’Driane’s post.

7. I take a 2.5 hour nap. I blame it on the weather. And on mental exhaustion.

8. I am craving time and space to sit and make art. I am packing up a box of Fever Dreams and all I want to think about are the projects for next October.

9. Haven’t been to Meson Sabika since our first friend date. 2012 Conde de Haro Cava and two bottles of 2009 of Vino Ardanza. “Are we celebrating anything today?” “Friendship.”

10. He’s putting a pillow in its case. “This is our second to last Sunday in this house.”

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Four

1. Still so dark but it’s 6:23. I see a text from my mom. They are on their way to Jerusalem.

2. Contemplating a sunrise walk even though the sky is covered over with thick gray clouds. I make coffee and fill a bowl with cereal and flax milk.

3. The sound of tape stretching across a box.

4. I park under the maple and its bouquet of red leaves. The wind is blowing everything around. It’s snowing leaves.

5. I decide to start from the very beginning. I hear the wisdom that I needed to hear. I think about whether or not I like how Christian this is. I think about the conversations we’ve had in mom’s group about how one’s relationship with God changes shape over time. I am still not sure where I am on the line between belief and disbelief.

6. But my kind faith doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. And then I see A’Driane’s post.

7. I take a 2.5 hour nap. I blame it on the weather. And on mental exhaustion.

8. I am craving time and space to sit and make art. I am packing up a box of Fever Dreams and all I want to think about are the projects for next October.

9. Haven’t been to Meson Sabika since our first friend date. 2012 Conde de Haro Cava and two bottles of 2009 of Vino Ardanza. “Are we celebrating anything today?” “Friendship.”

10. He’s putting a pillow in its case. “This is our second to last Sunday in this house.”

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Three

1. He comes in to check on us because it’s after 7 o’clock and we’re still in bed. It’s not that I’m that tired. I’m just procrastinating.

2. I reheat the blueberry muffins and start the coffee. I promise myself just two small cups.

3. We google the house and look at the pictures again. We’ll need another sofa because the linen is still for the grown folks only. And also because we’re both so excited.

4. I have to take care of the basement first. I light some nag champa and start the Fever Dreams playlist. “Fantasy” by Earth, Wind, & Fire.

5. But are any of us really surprised that she’s late?

6. The house is quiet with the three of the gone. I repack open boxes, two typewriters, some baskets. I place the hydrangea and rosebud garlands from Jennette in a sturdy plastic container so that they don’t get crushed. There is so much more than I thought there was.

7. We need to waste a little bit of time so I drive up and down the streets of downtown Naperville taking in the color of the leaves: yellow, orange-gold, fire-red, burgundy, emerald green, brown. There won’t be trees like this in California, I know. I will miss this about the midwest.

8. The birthday party is actually 30 minutes away. I forgot the present.

9. No more strip mall sushi.

10. The house is a disaster. I remind myself that this is what transition looks like: tangled mess, eddies of chaos, neverending questions, and the impulse to try to make everything neat again.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Three

1. He comes in to check on us because it’s after 7 o’clock and we’re still in bed. It’s not that I’m that tired. I’m just procrastinating.

2. I reheat the blueberry muffins and start the coffee. I promise myself just two small cups.

3. We google the house and look at the pictures again. We’ll need another sofa because the linen is still for the grown folks only. And also because we’re both so excited.

4. I have to take care of the basement first. I light some nag champa and start the Fever Dreams playlist. “Fantasy” by Earth, Wind, & Fire.

5. But are any of us really surprised that she’s late?

6. The house is quiet with the three of the gone. I repack open boxes, two typewriters, some baskets. I place the hydrangea and rosebud garlands from Jennette in a sturdy plastic container so that they don’t get crushed. There is so much more than I thought there was.

7. We need to waste a little bit of time so I drive up and down the streets of downtown Naperville taking in the color of the leaves: yellow, orange-gold, fire-red, burgundy, emerald green, brown. There won’t be trees like this in California, I know. I will miss this about the midwest.

8. The birthday party is actually 30 minutes away. I forgot the present.

9. No more strip mall sushi.

10. The house is a disaster. I remind myself that this is what transition looks like: tangled mess, eddies of chaos, neverending questions, and the impulse to try to make everything neat again.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Two

1. Later start to the morning. Or maybe it’s just that they are up too early.

2. Hot tea. Gotta take a break from the coffee; it makes me to angsty.

3. Grocery shopping. I see the old man with the blue sneakers. I haven’t seen him in awhile. I realize that this is the last time I’m going to be in this store, shopping for a full week of groceries. This is the beginning of the end.

4. What am I going to do with all of this whole wheat flour?

5. Laundry and a big mug of tea. I keep finding all the other things to do instead of packing.

6. Spicy pizza, a red blend from Tuscany, an average apple crostada. Belly full on a cold and cloudy day.

7. I am late picking them up. Not late-late, but the third-to-last car in the pick-up line. I apologize and tell them that I fell asleep. They are forgiving. “I’m not mad, I was just wondering. It’s okay.”

8. She asks if she can bake the chocolate cake since there is nothing else for dessert. “I know, I know. Read the direction and mise en place.”

9. Sometimes your kids do things that let you know you are doing it all right even when you feel like you’ve got it all wrong.

10. “You’ve really got to start packing.”

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-One

1. Fiery pink bomb in the sky.

2. Bacon and burnt hash browns. A big pot of coffee.

3. The deer have been so present lately. I keep watch while I eat. The sky is still so gray.

4. I vox her back while I sort boxes and try to get the basement organized in some way. There are so many boxes that need to be repacked. So many odds and ends that need care and organization. I don’t know where to start so I begin by taping up a box that’s already full. There. I’ve begun.

5. It’s so good to see her face this morning, to be grounded by her presence even so far away. I vomit out some life stuff and then we talk retreat stuff and business stuff. Next October seems so far away but it’s not. Mostly we’re both excited to be in the same time zone soon.

6. Better today. Curious more than anything.

7. The mental fatigue is what’s really getting me. I can’t seem to focus on anything for too long.

8. Cramming the last days with plans. But this weekend there will be a little bit of respite. Enough time to tackle the larger projects. Packing is the easiest thing, but the most time consuming. Also resisting the urge to throw everything out and start from scratch.

9. Leftovers. I hope these kids don’t expect any gourmet meals for the next month.

10. Grateful that I found a man who will oil my scalp.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-One

1. Fiery pink bomb in the sky.

2. Bacon and burnt hash browns. A big pot of coffee.

3. The deer have been so present lately. I keep watch while I eat. The sky is still so gray.

4. I vox her back while I sort boxes and try to get the basement organized in some way. There are so many boxes that need to be repacked. So many odds and ends that need care and organization. I don’t know where to start so I begin by taping up a box that’s already full. There. I’ve begun.

5. It’s so good to see her face this morning, to be grounded by her presence even so far away. I vomit out some life stuff and then we talk retreat stuff and business stuff. Next October seems so far away but it’s not. Mostly we’re both excited to be in the same time zone soon.

6. Better today. Curious more than anything.

7. The mental fatigue is what’s really getting me. I can’t seem to focus on anything for too long.

8. Cramming the last days with plans. But this weekend there will be a little bit of respite. Enough time to tackle the larger projects. Packing is the easiest thing, but the most time consuming. Also resisting the urge to throw everything out and start from scratch.

9. Leftovers. I hope these kids don’t expect any gourmet meals for the next month.

10. Grateful that I found a man who will oil my scalp.

Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty

1. Tiny bird perched on the mini grill. Black feathers. So sweet. I’ve never seen him before.

2. Up early enough to hear the crash of the recycling truck.

3. I see the name again and try to ignore it.

4. But sometimes I get these signs and this is another week of signs.

5. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe it is true that some people can communicate with one another without speaking a word, even across a thousand miles, and time zones.

6. It’s just that a willingness to connect means a willingness to be broken open by feelings. Which is to say that one of the reasons this was shut off to begin with was because I didn’t want to feel the feelings. Ironically, this decision to cut myself off from feeling coincides with a drop in my own creativity. Because, of course, art is a way of dealing with emotion. Art requires a certain kind of connectedness to oneself.

7. I am scared of what my art might look like if I allow myself to sink into the depths of this story. And yet, it is clearly something I still need to learn from and process.

8. Yes, there is a place for the basketball hoop on the driveway. It’s a flat driveway.

9. A glass of Gigondas.

10. I yell at them over the apple crisp. It’s not them that I’m upset about. It’s that my right eye is maybe too tired and the vision is suddenly blurry and this scares me. This scares me because I know that every year the size of my optic nerves increases which means I’m getting closer and closer to needing special drops or medication to reduce my risk of glaucoma. This scares me because I am only 33 and the idea of not being able to see in 10 or 20 years is frightening. But my eye is probably just tired because I wore old glasses instead of contacts, and so that’s probably just it.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Nine

1. Oh, it’s cold. I ought to close the window.

2. Muffins for breakfast. Mushing fat berries with the backside of a fork.

3. So much yellow light.

4. I can’t stop thinking about the house. I keep mentally placing furniture on walls and thinking about color schemes. We’ll need taller bar stools and some real patio furniture. How many air mattresses?

5. Gloved hands wrapped around a large peppermint tea. So many more leaves on the ground this time. We walk under the road and come up the other side to find a few more trolls. The water. The light.

6. We got our 10,000 steps. I’m grateful for this walk. I’m trying not to think about this being the last one.

7. French onion soup, roast beef sandwich, steak skewers, cheese plate, charcuterie board. Beaujolais and Gigondas. I am so hungry today. Maybe I am eating feelings.

8. I can’t get the nose ring in.

9. I’m not hungry anymore. There are not enough days for all of these names.

10. 15 days.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Eight

1. The quiet is always so good.

2. Must make a list. The list is long. I will shorten it to what’s really doable today. I have a countdown and am working backwards. What actions today will have me more prepared for tomorrow?

   3. Cereal or granola or oatmeal. He stomps back up the stairs.  

   4. A canopy of trees, clear sunlight, squirrels at the feet. 

   5. Spiced bar nuts and a tiny glass of Vouvray because this might be the last time we get to do this. 

   6. Leftover chicken noodle soup and paper work for lunch.

   7. I should really start packing.  

   8. We got it. And so now there’s a place to shift into. It felt more right than the other one, even though I wanted the view of the rolling hills. But a cul-de-sac and a park and a little bit more grass tipped me over. Plus the house just had good vibes. I felt them when I walked in.  

   9. Relief.  

   10. 16 days.  

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Six

1. It’s after 6 and still really dark but I need to get up.  

2. Oh, this sunrise is going to be good. 

3. There isn’t a way to capture it, really. Not the way I want to. Not in a way that would do it justice. 

4. It’s cuter than I thought it would be. The farmer’s market is setting up. We go into the diner and get some breakfast. Orange juice, water, coffee. Scrambled eggs and bacon with hash browns and wheat toast.  

5. Persimmons in their glory. Flower bunches and ugly gourds. Lots of tomatoes and eggplant and squash. Blackberries almost as big as my pinky.  

6. We stand in the driveway while his wife brings the keys. The sun is so hot that I’m sweating in my sweater. I like this neighborhood. I like being on top of a hill. But.  

7. The owners might be changing their minds but she gives us the code to go in anyway. Enough rooms for the both of us to have an office. So much light. And the view from the back—that would never get old. 

8. I use my Safeway discount card.   

9. This one. This one could be good. And since it’s apparently the last one we’ll be able to see today, it has to be this. But I just wish they could tell you on the spot. I pray that this one comes through.  

10. Johnny Salami’s for a sandwich and chips before a bottle of rosé at Hannah Nicole. Darcie Kent for a surprisingly refreshing Chardonnay.  

10.1 Range Life. Olives, a sea bass crudo, the best steak tartare I’ve ever had, roasted squash with burrata and pepitas, apple cobler. Bründlmayer and a beaumes de venise.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Seven

1. Time to get up. 4 am always comes so fast.

2. Stuff everything back into suitcases, roll it all to the elevator. The parking lot lights flicker on as we make our way to the car.

3. You always feel like you’re leaving things behind.

4. I can’t remember the last time I read an issue of Wine Spectator from cover to cover, but I have just done so and I should get back to doing it more often.

5. How do you say that you’re going home but you’re not really going home? How do you return to a place you are leaving? 19 days. 17 until the movers arrive, should all continue to go as planned.

6. But I still don’t have a lease.

7. Surprised by sun and mild temperatures upon our landing. This makes the return much easier.

8. Go and get the kids. But a hot chocolate from their corner stand. The girls are raising funds for the French patisserie they plan to open up after college.

9. Pizza for dinner.

10. She is already planning her move. I figured as much. We’ll get them there some how. Maybe not right away but in a few more years.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Five

1. 4:36. A little early than needed but I get up anyway.

2. I re-vacuum the bedroom and the top of the stairs before I go. It’s so dark.

3. My stomach is turning and tightening. I know it’s just anxiety. Is the house okay for the appraisal? Will it appraise? Am I going to the right airport? Why is it taking me this way? Oh yes, Midway. There are a lot of cars on the road so early in the morning. How do people do this every day?

4. I’m in between 5N and 5P.

5. I just need a piece of fruit. Why is this so hard?

6. Upgrade. Glad I did because now I have an aisle seat right in the front and I can get to the bathroom with ease which is important since I just drank 2 liters of water. But it’s a long flight and I need to stay hydrated.

7. I stand on the curb waiting for him and daydream about how my next flight to San Francisco will be with the whole family. The five of us will make our way on the airtran carrying two suitcases a piece and everyone will so excited to see the sun and mountains.

8. “Welcome home,” he says.

9. It’s hard not to stare and stare and stare. The mountain tops touch the sky. What do you call the color of the hills?

10. The moon looks big, much bigger than it did in Chicago. I am indeed closer to heaven.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Four

1. I should just go ahead and wake up.

2. Another batch of granola so that he’s full before morning soccer. Fixing glasses with black electrical tape because you can’t get in for an appointment for another week.

3. Find the light.

4. Tidy up the rooms. Eat popcorn with nutritional yeast as a snack before leaving.

5. Oh, no. I should have expected this.

6. I fall asleep in the chair while reading and waiting for someone’s hands to make their way back to my head. This will be worth it. This will be worth it. I won’t ever see her again.

7. A bubble of anxiety at the base of the belly. How is it already Thursday? How is it already time to go again?

8. 6 o’clock. Appraiser is coming tomorrow. Add cleaning to the list.

9. They’re showered and fed and full of m & m’s. I drive them to Naperville to spend the weekend with friends. I feel sad and a little worried but mostly tired. I hug them all and give them kisses. Am I really leaving tomorrow?

10. At least I’ll come back to a clean home. I forgot to eat dinner.

Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Three

1. The quiet of the dark. But I am not alone for long. The oldest is the first one down and he heads straight to the fireplace.

2. I offer bacon plus whatever carb they can find as a breakfast. I suppose I could have made hash browns too but my mind is too clouded with other things to think of something so easy.

3. What day is it?

4. I wish that it wasn’t this way. But I buy what I need to buy because this is the only place to buy it from.

5. More pants for them. The cooler weather is here to stay and we are woefully under-dressed. I’d thought we would have been gone by now and some school shopping consisted of only summer wear. Rewashing the same two pairs of leggings for her is getting hold. And the biggest one has finally blown out the knees of the pairs of pants he did have.

6. Bright sun.

7. It’s in talking to her that I witness how I dance with my own shadow. I think of the stories that are looping, the incomplete projects, the ways in which I undermine my own success. How am I working with fear right now?

8. Chicken noodle soup to soothe the ache in the back of the throat. The kids think that this version is a little too salty but I’m chuffed at how much it tastes like my childhood. Must not get sick.

9. I like that now the easy choice is the only choice.

10. The Sacred No.