Ten.Six Hundred & Twenty

1. Don’t forget the bagels.

2. Everyone is slow to get up. There’s a stool in the middle of the family room. He stumbles out and tells me that he has something to tell me but that his older brother will be mad if he says anything. I tell him that he needs to go ahead and tell me what it was that woke him up so early in the morning.

3. I unplug the Xbox and stick it in a basket in my room.

4. Flashcards and more flashcards. Something about this round of studying feels different. Mainly, my attention. Maybe it’s that I’m passed the point of freaking out. But I can’t tell if I’m actually remembering anything and that feels like a problem.

5. Trust.

6. I just love this drive—especially if I’m a passenger. I sit with my face up to the glass and try to take it all in. Green and gray and blue and white. Black and brown and cream-colored cows. Clusters of orange poppies and purple wildflowers growing along the slopes of the hills.

7. No complaints.

8. The water in the sink keeps rising.

9. Barolo.

10. He asks me what I need and the feeling of overwhelm washes over and I hide under the covers and say that we’ll just talk about it tomorrow. Problem is I don’t have very many more Tomorrows left.

Ten.Six Hundred & Nineteen

1. Oh good, I can open my eyes.

2. He stumbles into the kitchen. One eye is very puffy and sealed shut. We get a warm washcloth to ease it open. Pivoting plans for the day.

3. They look a little weird but maybe they taste OK.

4. These women on the Kaiser phones have just been so kind. If they only knew how their kindness so early in the morning melted away a bit of the stress.

5. He asks me if I can take him to lunch. He wants pizza. I do too.

6. He’s such a good companion.

7. Sun, sun, sun.

8. The doctor suggests he stay out of school tomorrow too. The eye plus the ear infections warrant a bit more rest. I think about the mothers and fathers and caregivers who don’t have a choice and send their sick kids to school. I think about how grateful I am that I can say okay and be home and cuddle and eat. I think about how much of a privilege it is.

9. A thing can be both a burden and a privilege.

10. Tomorrow, I think we’ll go for a bike ride.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eighteen

1. How is it already time to get up?

2. Tuesday. Spring break begins next week. Parents arrive one week from today. Only 12 more days until the exam. Where is all the time going?

3. Lunchables.

4. Nettles and oat straw tea. “Reclaiming Conversation” and seeing her face. Talking life and confidence and courage and hourly rates.

5. Sour gummy worms and sun.

6. I read and start daydreaming about finding a small piece of land where it’s quiet and I feel even closer to the sun.

7. I start to panic and worry that maybe the bus was in some kind of accident. Or maybe the traffic coming back from San Francisco was heavier that expected. San Francisco. They went to San Francisco today. That sounds wild to me. Oh yeah, we live in California.

8. Confidence. Confidence.

9. Can I really do this?

10. Pink eye.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventeen

1. Just remember that the weather report promises sunshine today.

2. Feel. Do.

3. I look over my right shoulder and am blinded by light. The sun looks different here. Which sounds silly to say except it’s true and I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s so bright.

4. Hawk.

5. The silhouette of a solitary cow on the hilltop. The sheep aren’t on this side of the hill today. I giggle and think back to yesterday when I saw what appeared to be sheep frolicking. Frolicking white sheep against green grass and gray rock and blue sky.

6. Sauvignon Blanc.

7. I forgot chicken broth. Now what to do?

8. The kitchen is lit up. I look at my watch. Ok. Let’s see how long it lasts before the sun dips behind the neighbor’s house.

9. Petaluma. I could do Petaluma, I think. Maybe it won’t be here. Maybe we do head up north. I wouldn’t mind being closer to the water. Maybe feel like there’s a little more space. And yet. I also can imagine staying here. I can imagine staying. I can also imagine not ever feeling 100% certain about any choice we make.

10. They still want to be tucked in.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixteen

1. Time has changed.

2. Biscuit with butter and jelly and a cup of coffee. Not much time to read since time has escaped me this morning.

3. Putting it down. I don’t need to carry this.

4. There’s something about the voice. How it gets to this shrieking tone or pitch. It’s distracting.

5. Oh, good. I’m out in the lounge today. I wanted the fresh air today.

6. Here comes the rain. I watch the leaves of the palm trees sway. The sound of rain hitting the overhang. The sound of water in the downspout.

7. There has to be a way to make this run more efficiently.

8. I am always the first to leave but I don’t mind it. I’m the only one with a husband and kids back home.

9. 14 days.

10. No ease. When will it return? How does one invited it back? Must something else go? Must something else change? Is it even truly possible? Is ease also a myth like balance?

Ten.Six Hundred & Fifteen

1. Thin slice of orange sandwiched between clouds and blue sky. Maybe the sun will come out after all.

2. He asks me what the stuff in the bag is. I tell him that it’s Israeli couscous and he should give it a try. Substitute it in where you might usually use rice. More than anything, the kids think it’s fun because it’s shaped like tiny balls.

3. Someone ate the entire box of Lucky Charms and I’m trying not to be mad but I am mad.

4. You know the coffee will be good when you can still see the oils on the beans.

5. “I wish my games were on Sundays so that you could come.” A little stab of mother guilt right as I head out the door to go to work.

6. Everything about his whole vibe is uncomfortable. And then he begins to speak and confirms my intuition. Then he swats away his significant other’s hand and I can feel my heart racing a little bit. I see the embarrassment and shock in her face. I’m suddenly very thirsty.

7. I take a lunch and ask for pictures from the game. Insert more mother guilt. Insert ponderings of alternatives to this. Insert a surge of determination.

8. I feel too tired to be determined.

9. Thoroughbreds hang out with Thoroughbreds.

10. The not-quite-right feeling is lingering. Residual bits from the day. I may need to find new rituals of release after these days with people. Empathy is draining.

Ten.Six Hundred & Fourteen

1. So much light. The time time changes this weekend. I’m so ready for it.  

2. I grab the coat out of my closet. I’d been meaning to get it altered. Navy blue with gold buttons. Another piece of vintage Ralph Lauren found in a heap of clothes. But today he will wear it and pretend to be Robert Livingston. 

3. She says I look fancy.  

4. The young woman is bright and has so much energy. I’m envious of her energy. This is the kind of job you can only do if you’re young.  

5. We head down Vasco. The clouds are making shadows on the hills and the turbines are moving and it doesn’t even look real. It looks like a painting.  

6. Daffodils in the sunlight. Tall grass. Cows looking down on us from the steep pasture. 

7. Something about today. Maybe it was the sight of familiar faces...talking about things all of us know. Being with friends.  

8. This was the kind of week that I needed. A week of speaking and feeling heard. A week of being with others. As much as I fancy myself a homebody, I needed to be present in public spaces.  

9. Too tired to do anything else.  

10. The house is a disaster. I’m going to try not to think about it. I’m going to play word games instead. Run definitions through my head. Hope for the rain to stay away tomorrow.  

Ten.Six Hundred & Thirteen

1. Oh. Maybe it won’t rain today.

2. “Everyone in the car?” I turn around and see two faces. We’re good to go.

3. The cleaning is not going to get done today and I know it won’t and I’m trying to make peace with it.

4. I hear my name and look up and it’s a friendly face. A black face. I am at first surprised and then I remember that this is one of the reasons we came here.

5. “Would you prefer a male or a female?” “Female. And can I ask that she be of color?” “Of course. We can do that.”

6. Fifteen years off and on and I can say that I’ve never had a black therapist. Never. And I’ve looked but rarely was there ever anyone in my area. No one I could get to with ease. But this is why we moved here. I needed to have access to care providers that look like me.

7. We talk about stuckness. She reminds me to not worry about the how but to hold on to the dream.

8. We select dates for May, October, and January. It feels good to commit.

9. She’s there waiting for me.

10. We both gush over our California experiences today. These are the things that happen that affirm our decision to move. The stress of it all has been worth it, even if it is sending me back to therapy to gather resources to help me adjust with this major transition. The good is outweighing everything else and that puts the soul at ease.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twelve

1. The sound of rain dripping from the gutter.

2. Yeah, these really taste good. Not the healthiest but definitely tasty.

3. A crack of sunshine on a cloudy morning. I start to close the garage door and then he yells, “Mom! Mom! What about Nora?!” We laugh. I open the garage door back up and see her standing in the doorway. Oh jeez. Twice in one week I’ve almost forgotten her. Pretty sure she’ll be telling her therapist about this in twenty years.

4. Flashcards.

5. School. She has a stomach ache and a fever.

6. The phone cut out at 4 hours. We’ve been on the phone for 4 hours. We laugh.

7. Now he’s asleep on the sofa. Is he sick too?

8. Tomatoes and garlic roasting in the oven. Rosemary focaccia.

9. He’s still sleeping.

10. Heart chakra oil.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eleven

1. What’s the weather supposed to be today? By the lack of light I’m guessing we’re supposed to get some rain.

2. I’m dubious about the 100% whole wheat blueberry muffins but they look so pretty in the tin that maybe they’ll turn out just fine.

3. Every other building is vacant. There could be so much potential here. I wonder what happened.

4. I’m here is 10 minutes early and send her a text to let her know that I’ve parked. I send another text at 7:01 to let her know that I’m ready whenever she is. At 7:12 I send her a text telling her that I’ll be leaving soon if I don’t hear back from her. She tells me she’ll be there in 15 minutes.

5. There’s a man walking around the parking lot in circles. He may be homeless. The biker dude who’s drinking something on ice asks him if he can buy him a coffee. The maybe-homeless man appreciates the offer but turns him down.

6. I send her a text at 7:58 telling her I’m going home.

7. I soothe my annoyance and disappoint with a few bunches of ranunculus and eucalyptus, Israeli couscous and a wedge of Parmesan.

8. Tired eyes.

9. Hot oil on the tender skin of my wrist.

10. Ready for it to be over.

Ten.Six Hundred & Ten

1. Biscuits for them. Hard-boiled eggs with pickled beet horseradish.

2. The rocking chair has just the right amount of creakiness.

3. The trowel. We make a u-turn and dig around in the garage for a trowel. A trowel.

4. I do love seeing her face. October will come soon but I wish it was sooner. We’re coming up on a year since the last gathering. This next one…I’m so ready for the next one.

5. So many beautiful things and yet I feel so out of place. But yes, please. This high-waisted jumper. And an ivory leather sofa.

6. Contradictions.

7. Chateau d’Yquem. Yes, more of this please.

8. Surprisingly good.

9. See you in the morning. See you in the morning? Are you sure? What I want to say is that I’m 99.9% sure that she will see me in the morning. But I also know that there is a chance that I might not. Of course I wouldn’t dare say that out loud but I always think it. I sincerely do hope I see you again in the morning. And I hope the day I don’t doesn’t come too soon.

10. How do I get Moira Rose’s wardrobe?

Ten.Six Hundred & Nine

1. It’s time for me to wake up.

2. I do have whole wheat flour but I don’t feel like baking today. Donuts it is.

3. Hot coffee and an old-fashioned. Gray skies.

4. Wash.

5. My arms are tired from reaching up over my head. Hair days.

6. Only 1/3 of the book left. I should be finished by Wednesday. Then it’s flash cards for the the next 18 days after that. I can do this.

7. I block out the times of day that I know I’m busy doing other things. The sound of the pencil gliding back and forth across the paper as I shade in the rectangles. The way the pencil moves across the paper makes me nostalgic.

8. Murder on the Orient Express. He says Poirot’s peculiarities are too similar to mine. Poirot says something about how his ability to see the flaws in things makes his life miserable. I guess we are indeed similar.

9. Pretzel salt in my sheets. We ought to find a better solution for movie night.

10. The hill in the background look familiar. Even though it’s in black and white, I can tell it must have been filmed in late spring or summer.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eight

1. I think I hear rain.

2. I am not opposed to a slow day at work. I like it best when I get to spend more one-on-one time with guests.

3. Now if only I could get my nose to stop running.

4. Why are we always arguing over eating fruit?

5. Today’s intention: honest connection; don’t take anything personally.

6. The rain. It will be a slow start to the day.

7. I surprise myself with what I know.

8. He hugs me. He smells a little bit like cigarette smoke. His Boston accent is endearing. He’s brought his mother-in-law who looks like she might be 80-something. She tells me about the first time she got buzzed on alcohol was just a few years ago.

9. Dipping in and out of the fog as I navigate the hills on the way home. The road is always the same but every night it looks a little different. In some ways it doesn’t seem real.

10. Growth.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seven

1. How is it already March?

2. Mental list of things to do and not to do. The “not-to-do” list is feeling a little long.

3. I try the store again, this time, moving more slowly. Remembering that patience is required in everything.

4. “Right on,” he says. That’s how I know I’m in California.

5. I fold six loads of laundry in the quiet. Head still heavy from congestion. I’ve been sick in some fashion for almost three weeks now.

6. 22 days.

7. He didn’t get the order right. I really wanted that chicken enchilada. And I really wanted that asada taco. But at least the margarita was good.

8. Sleep. The body needs more rest.

9. I had forgotten how visually stunning this movie is. The writing is not the best but the film is gorgeous.

10. Work tomorrow. I do hope his game is rained out so that I won’t have to miss his very first one.

Ten.Six Hundred & Six

1. I can’t believe there are more than 600 of these.

2. Nope. Still can’t breathe.

3. I tell myself I will skip cleaning day today. But then I immediately change my mind. I think about the compulsion. I think about how good I feel afterward even though I always hesitate to begin. I think about why I place such a value on order. I remember that some brains are made/conditioned to be that way.

4. Everything lately feels like a lesson in physics: an object at rest stays at rest.

5. More Mucinex, another Dayquill, pot of ginger and lemon and honey simmering on the stove.

6. I can’t get warm enough.

7. Spain. Now I’m craving manchego and ham and Rioja, Pedro Ximenez, and that date cake from Niche.

8. The smell of smoke and fire.

9. Nothing is drying me out enough. Running and running and running.

10. How is it already March?

Ten.Six Hundred & Five

1. The sound of palms whipping back and forth.

2. Granola. Smoothie. Nettles and oat straw infusions.

3. Wait. Why is my nose running?

4. They say there might be rain but the clouds are parting and a little bit of sun is creeping through. Clouds are resting on the peak of Mt. Diablo. Hot coffee in my hand.

5. Bistecca, bistecca, bistecca. She must have mentioned bistecca alla florentina half a dozen times and now I think we ought to have steak for dinner.

6. Yes. Let’s pretend we’re in Italy for tonight, or some other place that is home but also not quite home. A little bit of beef, prepared simply with oil, salt, and pepper, served with a root vegetable puree and sauteed spinach. That other bottle of Chianti.

7. Back home so quickly.

8. Pictures of high water, flooded streets, flooded buildings, people in kayaks.

9. A running nose. Great. I know what this will turn into. Also, how is this possible? Between all of the liquids I’ve been taking plus the antibiotics plus the vitamins. And still. It finally found its way to me.

10. Dream, dream, dream.

Ten.Six Hundred & Four

1. Oh, right. Biscuits.

2. Gray light. Coffee percolating.

3. There is something about this that feels chaotic and almost too open.

4. I know I’m wearing my emotion on my face. I hope no one is taking it too personal.

5. Us on Skype. I hear myself mispronouncing words and it’s driving me crazy. It doesn’t really matter with them. I muddle my way through. I miss them. I miss those Tuesdays.

6. I should be doing other things not standing at the counter scrolling through Instagram and eating leftover Mongolian Beef. But right now this is about all I can do.

7. He gets into the car. I start to drive away. “What about Nora?!” We laugh. “I’m so used to just picking up one kid for the first stop. I forgot about Nora!” We laugh again as we exit the parking lot and then get right back in the loop again.

8. What is it about pirate booty that makes it irresistible?

9. Leftover chicken parmesan and Chianti.

10. We decide that we’ll do a day of Golden Gate, Muir Woods, and Stinson Beach. I can already taste the burger with bacon and avocado, the vanilla milkshake. I can feel the thin sand and the sharp edge of sea shells. I can smell the salt in the air. Three more weeks.

Ten.Six Hundred & Three

1. I don’t think I’ve worn this sweater in a while.

2. Hashbrowns. Potstickers. Coffee. Is there any leftover bacon? I’m finding it difficult to eat more than one piece these days.

3. I assure him that I’ve already emailed his teacher to let her know that it’s his last day. He is really the most easygoing kid.

4. What is happening?

5. What kind of tea shop doesn’t open up until 11:30? This is a bad sign. It will probably be closed soon. I get back in the car and drive down Balfour to the other local coffee shop. Chai and a gluten-free scone. Yes, please.

6. At first I think it’s snow. Then I realize it’s just the blooms blowing off the trees. Delicate white petals collecting in the cracks of the sidewalk. It feels like spring.

7. There are regulars. I like this. I like places where there are regulars.

8. Back to the car. Seeing her face. Yes. Her face always makes me feel better. We catch up on as much as we can. Decide that we def need to hang out before the retreat. Yes. I gotta get to Seattle. I need a break from these kids.

9. It’s closed. Again. We’ll try Enishi.

10. No dust in the case. This is a good sign.

Ten.Six Hundred & Two

1. I think, maybe, not enough of us bring intention into our work. Before I leave, I always think of an intention. What is my goal for the day with my guests? How do I want to make them feel when they’re there? When they leave?

2. Bacon. Coffee. Waffles from a mix.

3. Cloud cover. Looks like rain but you never know.

4. The morning time passes too quickly.

5. I still care too much.

6. I ask her what’s been the most surprising thing about having a new middle school-er. “How mean they are. Some of the things these kids are saying are things I’d neeeever think of saying to another person.” My heart aches a little bit at hearing this but I understand it.

7. They give me a list of places to go for cocktails in Walnut Creek.

8. She’s a teacher. She also lives in Brentwood. She also says she loves it. I get more and more confused when I hear people talk about where they live and why they love it. Everyone has a sense of pride about where they come from.

9. Were it not for the cloud cover, a sign that the rain is indeed coming, the sky would be a little brighter. But still. So nice to be leaving work with a little bit of light still hanging in the sky.

10. Wente Cabernet Franc with the pot roast he cooked for dinner. Seems like the right kind of meal to prepare for the upcoming week.

Ten.Six Hundred & One

1. I’ll get up when he gets up.

2. What am I to do with these braids?

3. Waking up a preteen is a thing.

4. Freshly tilled fields over on this side of town. What will be planted?

5. Rhone, Loire, Languedoc-Roussillon, Armagnac, and Cognac. I manage to get a good chunk of reading done. There is much that I do still remember. There is a lot that I don’t.

6. So quiet.

7. I tell him that it was nice to have a Saturday off. It’s been so long since I had a Saturday off. And this one was slow. There was plenty to do but there was an ease about it. Chai and snacks and water and good time to study.

8. He tells me that maybe Napa will not be the place. I don’t disagree. What I do want is greater proximity to the things I find culturally relevant: museums, art, good food, a literary scene, talks and what not. I like here a lot. It’s a beautiful, friendly suburb. But I’m too far out. I tell him that I don’t want to repeat what we did in Oswego. I don’t want to love my house but be so far from the things that feed my creativity.

9. When is roast chicken not a good idea?

10. I miss baking bread. After this exam, I’ll get back into the kitchen. “After the exam.” I feel like everything is on hold.