Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Nine

1. More rested than I expected to be.

2. That soft red glow again. I ought to hunt down it’s source. At first glance it looks like the coming of dawn but it’s on the wrong side of the sky.

3. I warm up the leftover soup for us while he builds a sandwich and the other decides he will eat nothing at all.

4. Bright sun. Unexpected. The hills are beginning to turn green again. Funny that winter here is both life and death at the same time. Some of the trees lose their leaves but the grass turns green again, the roses are blooming again, the birds of paradise are alert, the lemons continue to ripen.

5. I tell her that I want to use this opportunity to challenge, which is not the same thing as shaming. But I hope that we weren’t asked because we felt like safe choices.

6. I keep to myself.

7. I wonder if I’m overly responsive about this particular email. It’s just that I’m eager for something to do. I try to remind myself that this is just the season we’re in.

8. The softness of the linen. Maybe this is what should be on my Christmas list.

9. How many pages in this chapter? The next? Can I get through both before the bath water gets too cold?

10. I still don’t like strawberry ice cream.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Eight

1. That’s good sleeping in.

2. I opt for comfort. I think back to when I told her that I tend to dress for comfort and tend to forget that we can dress for confidence. They are sometimes the same thing but often not.

3. She’s sick. We’ll push it back to next week. I am grateful for the cancellation. On to cleaning toilets.

4. A rod of anger. He asks me why I’m angry. The anger is not really anger. I mean, it is. I know what is frustrating to me. But really I’m just tired and needing solitude.

5. I should not have come, but here I am, and It’s just an opportunity to practice patience and presence. I think that this is really something, What a bunch crock it all is, the encouragement for overconsumption.

6. What is the alternative? I mean, realistically. Because I also refuse to run away.

7. I break off pieces of the roof. The gingerbread cookie itself is not so sweet, but the icing is just sweet enough. I try not to leave a trail of crumbs.

8. I curl up in his bed just to be alone. It's quiet back in this corner. It's the smallest room in the house but also one of the coziest.

9. In the next house, there will be a wood-burning fireplace.

10. Writing. Learning how to be a better steward of the land. Learning how to communicate with members of my community. Growing confidence. Shifting people's perceptions by asking questions that matter. Quieting the mind. Yoga. Centering Pleasure. Meals that nourish and delight. More books. Solitude.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Seven

1. Oh no. The amount of her invoice is more than my daily limit. Maybe she will let me partially pay. I’ll give her a few bottles of wine for the inconvenience.

2. This corner. The soft yellow-orange of light trying to push through. Everything looks wet and alive.

3. They help me carry the bags through the back door of the kitchen. “I think I saw her making choux dough!”

4. Of course our tables are right next to each other. I laugh to myself.

5. But aren’t we both adults? Are we really going to act as if we don’t notice on another? I formally introduce myself to get break the invisible silence. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…

6. Bubbles and popcorn and sticky fingers.

7. Stress sweat.

8. I grab a tray and carry glass back to the kitchen. He touches my shoulder and asks me what I’m doing. I’m just helping. “I can clean a table. I used to work in a restaurant, it’s really no big deal.” In fact, as I’m doing it I remember how much fun I used to have, the conversations I would have with guests. It’s a dance.

9. My feet, my feet. I wore these shoes for a very specific reason but man, my feet.

10. Maybe the word for 2020 is Confidence.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Six

1. Why do I keep scratching my face with this nub of a pencil?

2. Oh Christmas tree.

3. I set to making the scones. Shred the butter, mix in the cream, add vanilla and some cinnamon. The feel of the dough in my hand. I miss the days of Thanksgiving with its slowness. When, finally, cooking didn’t feel like a chore but a meditation.

4. Bad Questions. Right Questions. Real Questions. It’s the Real Question that shifts everything.

5. I forgot the glass jars. And what was I thinking? Green on green? I wasn’t. This is what happens when you don’t have a list.

6. I write out the to-dos for the day. I timed almost everything just right but there is more list than time today. I don’t stress out about it. I remind myself that none of this is life or death. It’s meant to be fun.

7. I think she’s doing what I think she’s doing. I laugh. I don’t worry because I know that there is proof that I made the originals.

8. Humans are so interesting.

9. She wraps the jars of fudge while I wrap the glasses. We drop them into the bags. She adds a club brochure then helps me tie the ornaments and recipe cards to the small bags of mulled wine. 30 gift bags take up a lot of room in a tiny car.

10. But you still have to do the work.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Five

1. The red glow. Not dawn. Not street lights. Maybe someone’s Christmas decorations?

2. Did I move the elf?

3. Beloved Oil on the neck and breast bone. The gleam on the collarbone. I try to push the shoulders down.

4. I tell her that I know this feeling all to well. I dislike the longing. I especially dislike the longing when you know that what you’re longing after is no good for you.

5. A wall of white. I’m surprised there haven’t been more accidents this week. This is the first time I’ve driven through fog like this before. Two horses on the hill in the mist.

6. This podcast, this podcast. Yes! Maxine from Living Single.

7. I tell her that I’m feeling divided.

8. I don’t see anyone’s car here yet. I try the door. It’s locked. I take a picture of the building, the white arch, the worn wooden door. The brass lights on either side of the door. Beauty hunting.

9. I laugh when I see who I get for Secret Santa. But then I realize that it’s actually easier than I had first thought.

10. What would be my secret?

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Four

1. I don’t think I should be this tired.

2. I forgot to move the elf. No one is awake. I see an envelope stuck underneath him. She did write the letter. She really is the sweetest. I love that she has chosen to believe in the magic.

3. Then I realize I ought to write her back.

4. She reads it outloud. She seems satisfied with the response.

5. Back into the clouds.

6. I task myself with a few extra things and this keeps me busy enough to feel more productive. Then I wonder if I’m a sadist.

7. I head out into the rain and turn the corner to find three deer. Three. My magic number. They look at me and I look at them. We look at each other. I smile. I ask them if they’d like to go. But I take it as good medicine.

8. Affirmations and Confirmations.

9. Oh, Wendy.

10. We drink the Azul-Verde and I immediately regret it because it was so delicious. Hot bath. Too hot. A few more chapters of Lilith’s Brood. I wonder if baths are now my creative outlet. I mourn my inability/unwillingness/lack of presence to sit and do the work I fell called to do. Like she said in that episode, I’m not doing the work that makes my insides happy.

11. And, yet.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Three

1. What is supposed to be for breakfast?

2. No more celery juice. I need more celery juice. What kind of person is a person who craves celery juice?

3. The freedom of a slow morning. I think about life before and how this was my morning every morning and how I miss it. I wonder if it’s something to aspire to get back to.

4. I notice the large wave of her hair, the big tortoise shell glasses, the gold stud in her nose that reminds me of India. I think it funny that had we not started on such a bad foot, she might be the kind of woman I’d like to get to know.

5. I tell them that there’s no need to meet on Thursday. They seem to be surprised. I’m surprised by their surprise.

6. Driving up into the rain. I giggle to myself. I think of how incredible it is that I am ascending so high that I am literally in a cloud. I drive THROUGH clouds.

7. Two deer on the side of the road. I wonder if it’s weird that I think almost everything is a sign.

8. I make my way through the gate but pause and pull the talisman out of my pocket. The contrast of wet asphalt, mottled leaves, knit sweater, shiny silver, and the word “trust.”

9. Something about her writing feels familiar. Or maybe it’s her voice, tone and cadence of her speech. It’s hard not to think “I want to write like that.”

10. Solution-based thinking. Also: sometimes you just need to ask the question.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Two

1. Just a few more minutes.

2. Biscuits but not enough milk to make gravy.

3. Everyone seems to be upset about having to return to the normal routine. We have only 3 weeks before another 2 weeks off. I remind them that they’re barely in school.

4. I crest the hill and am met with a curtain of gray clouds and fog. It’s dramatic and moody and I wish I could pull over and take out my camera. This is a different color scheme, one of muted browns and grays and deep green. An ever-changing landscape.

5. We both agree that something isn’t quite right. She has the language for it; I just have the feeling. We develop a plan.

6. The time is flying by today and that’s a good thing. I make myself a big mug of tea scented with orange and honey and cinnamon.

7. Oh, yeah.

8. Unknown. I know who it is.

9. Another wave of guilt. Another wondering if I shouldn’t have just made a different choice.

10. We opt for a smaller tree and In-n-Out for dinner. Gratitudes.

Ten. Eight Hundred & Eighty-One

1. I open the bedroom door, her back is to me. I hear the Nespresso machine and then my heart melts. I tell him I guess I should get back under the covers so she can bring it to me in bed.

2. She’s proud of herself. Sometimes I can’t tell if it’s just her personality or social conditioning, that she’s seen me be the caregiver for so long that it seems like it’s what she’s supposed to do. But then I also know that she’s also just a sweet little girl.

3. I finish the cappuccino with a slice of banana bread and a thick smear of butter.

4. I write the prayer.

5. The sound of wind and rain.

6. I work until the battery dies. It’s always so hard to write about yourself. I talk myself through it. I remind myself that it’s the first one and so it won’t be perfect but it will be done. This is all just a process.

7. I put on Twilight Zone and rub his head until he falls asleep. It doesn’t take too long. I think I’m right behind him.

8. Note to self: stop using my phone number.

9. Navarro Vineyards Pinot Gris.

10. I hear giggles from the back room. I knew this was a bad idea.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty

1. Slippered feet making their way to the kitchen.

2. I pull out a jar of celery juice while I prepare the coffee. The whir of the beans, the sound of the water filling the carafe.

3. I forgot about the banana bread.

4. I claim the same corner of the sofa and write my pages. I will miss not having this time in the morning.

5. She says she’s a little scared but excited. I’m surprised by her choice of studs over the gold balls but who doesn’t love shiny things. I stare at the pen marks on her lobes. I turn my head so that I can’t see the actual act of piercing. I hope she doesn’t notice.

6. Christmas leggings.

7. I so desperately want to nap but can’t seem to fall asleep.

8. I start to think “I’m not ready to go back…” and then stop myself. Gratitude for catching the thought before it completed itself. I ask myself for an alternative, something positive that I can replace it with. “I am looking forward to using this week to pull together the final pieces for the event next Saturday.”

9. No. None of these. Is it just today? My mood? Or do I just know what I want and I can recognize that this is not it?

10. Wet again. I hear the wind whipping through the trees.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Nine

1. I don’t think I’m even hungry.

2. But these shortbread cookies would go great with a cup of coffee.

3. Maybe we’ll try something a little different this year.

4. Morning pages while tucked into the corner with the most light. Water and coffee.

5. I finish the book. Not my most favorite but a simple idea that’s easy to put into place. I’m curious to see how many people use it and stick with it.

6. I text my uncle about questions I should ask the financial advisors. Then we decide that maybe we just work the investments on our own together.

7. I recognize guilt about talking about investments and try to trace it. Shame if you don’t have it, shame if you do. Awareness is what matters. Reducing harm along the way is what matters.

8. Sun, sun, sun.

9. More cabbage gratin and ham. The savory-sweet flavors. I should drink more water. I remember this season. I remember Mondo. I thought she would like this.

10. I realize that it’s about settling my body.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Eight

1. I see the door open and a little face peak through. I can tell by the way the light is falling into the room that I’ve slept in again.

2. Homemade banana bread toasted with a thick smear of butter, hot coffee.

3. I realize how much of that anger I’m still holding. I realize that it’s partly out of this fear of not being perceived as good enough (hello perfectionism and messages from the dominant culture).

4. I light all the candles and settle into a corner of the sofa. He brings me a short pour of sparkling Rosé. I flip open the latest issue of Fast Company.

5. I think about writing.

6. I can feel the excitement in my body as the dough gives a proper rise. I am grateful for the time and space to cook and make at my own speed. I remember how much I do enjoy cooking, an active meditation.

7. The cheesy cabbage gratin is everything I wanted it to be.

8. I think about how I thought about writing and how no writing was done. I decide to not beat myself up about it to much.

9. She has a good vibe.

10. Settling the body.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Seven

1. A little sleeping in.

2. Gray skies. She says she fell asleep to the sound of rain. I tell her I could hear while I was taking a bath. And wasn’t it so soothing?

3. Emails already. Of course, the day I figured I wouldn’t be busy enough to go into the office is the day an avalanche of questions pours in. It’s okay.

4. Costco on the day before. He tells me to relax. I try.

5. Sweet potato casserole, cheesy cabbage gratin, Alison Roman’s deep-dish apple galette. I think of the kind of conversation I want to have at dinner tomorrow; how to communicate gratitude as well as acknowledgment of the real truth of this particular day.

6. 2 glass dishes and 1 Italian glass carafe.

7. The feeling of being supported, to know you have people in your corner. And also know that you’re not making this stuff up even though you sometimes worry you’re taking it too personally.

8. All of this just leads to growth.

9. The galette is leaking and she says she hopes it doesn’t have a soggy bottom. I giggle. Leaking aside, I think it will be okay.

10. He says that he thinks we’re the only black family that didn’t eat macaroni and cheese. I laugh. I say that I almost thought about making it this week just because I actually do like macaroni and cheese. Like Aunt Monica’s. Yeah, like that.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Six

1. He’s here again, adding to the warmth beneath the covers. His had still feels small when placed inside my own. I’m grateful for that.

2. The last celery juice. I grab the leftover roast chicken and mashed potatoes and broccoli for my lunch today. Someone ate all the rolls.

3. She cries when she sees it. I imagine she’s feeling all things at once which is a very human way to be.

4. I walk over to the tasting room for crackers and cheese to place into the cottage fridge. It’s gray,so dray, and windy. Leaves, browned and curled, scratch at my ankles and tiny drops begin to fall.

5. Something wicked this way comes.

6. She should spend less time talking to me and more time trying to find another place to have this event.

7. Chicken noodle soup. Only two of us are really happy about it.

8. He makes a joke about me and my can of wine and the bathtub. I decide I need break from the serious stuff and grab Lilith’s Brood by Octavia Butler. I forget how much I like science fiction.

9. I have no list.

10. I should stay up to make this list but I don’t want to.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Five

1. I keep thinking I should check my phone but it still looks so dark. It is just early, right?

2. He says something about it being 6:30am. No school so it’s okay. But my morning is still cut short.

3. Celery juice and carrot juice. Cereal for them. I think of last night’s dinner and her with her head in her hands, saying that she wished I didn’t have a job.

4. I leave a little early so I can get coffee for the office. And honey. Maybe tea? I’ll order the tea from Amazon. Definitely the coffee though because it’s a Monday and I know I need another cup.

5. He carries one and I carry the other. I probably should not have worn 3-inch wedges to carry boxes but I do it and I’m glad it’s just done.

6. It might be one of the most outrageous excuses I’ve ever heard. I stick my headphones back into my ears.

7. The wind. I look up at the turbines. They don’t seem to be moving as fast as I think they should considering the way this car is shaking.

8. 2017 Drew Family Cellars Syrah Valenti Vineyard Mendocino Ridge. Spinach and bacon pasta.

9. Enough broth for soup tomorrow?

10. “We don’t have time together anymore.”

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Four

1. No. I am sleeping in.

2. But then the blinds opened and all hopes of that are lost.

3. I stick the potatoes and a few strips of bacon in the oven. More water before the first sip of coffee.

4. Morning pages. So much to write.

5. I dial her up. We talk like we always talk—deep and wide. About being black in white spaces. About advocating for your children in systems that aren’t meant for them to succeed. About people-ing. About the correlation between awareness and suffering. About how painful it is to be an artist that sees things no one else sees. About retreats specifically for black creatives. About being fearful and disappointed.

6. I mean. Hammock in late November. Sun on my face. I soak it in because I know the rains are coming.

7. She says to go for a 20-minute walk to shake the words loose. I think it might work.

8. West and Wilder White Wine. We are both a little skeptical.

9. It takes me 2 hours but I give her braids like mine. It will be easier for the both of us. Wasn’t I just saying something about putting in the work upfront in order to enjoy some ease later?

10. Already.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Three

1. I feel his cold hand on my arm and I let him get in.

2. Light creeping in. 6:42am. He tells me that they’re eating bagels. Oh yeah, I had forgotten about those. What a sweet gift to myself.

3. Cleaning day’s not so bad when 4 other people actually chip in.

4. I take the book and some water to the hammock. The middle of the yard is filled with sun. The material in the book is light, boring, surprisingly simple. There’s nothing wrong with simple. It’s just that I was expecting to learn something new.

5. She asks me what to do with the persimmons. We discuss tarts and pies. I suggest a sweet potato pie, apple hand pies, that chocolate cake that she likes to make. I encourage her to just stay bored. Nothing wrong with being bored, I say, and then close my eyes again and turn my left cheek to the sun.

6. Snuggle time. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Home Alone.

7. The wave of emotion is actually not about this. I mean, it is but it isn’t.

8. Requests for cell phones for Christmas. No one makes a moving argument.

9. They rewatch the first episodes of The Mandalorian while I take my bath. I let the bathwater get cold, read through more poems, slow down to watch the language move through the pages.

10. Ice cream.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Two

1. TGIF.

2. I miss the days when the weekend was not something I looked forward to.

3. I leave early to get bagels for the team. They really are the best bagels I’ve had since leaving New Jersey. I wish we had one in Brentwood. Livermore is too far to drive for a bagel.

4. I place my hand on the door and then stop myself. I turn toward the sun and close my eyes, set my intention for the day. Today will be a good day.

5. Well there goes that.

6. I say something about choosing to protect a boundary for someone who can’t manage to do it for themselves. And then I fill up my water bottle and walk to the garden. I grab the lemon balm and then smell my fingers. I wonder what trees they’ve planted to replace the tomatoes. The table is set for a wine and cheese pairing; glassware and gold chargers. Poppies?

7. We have a name for this kind of person.

8. I’m no longer interested in not being that angry black woman at the school.

9. I tell him that there’s not way I could anything that would be worth eating today. I think of “Like Water for Chocolate” and Tita and the wedding cake that made everyone sick. I can only imagine what angry cooking would do to the belly.

10. Still sweating from the heat of the bathwater.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-One

1. No wind. Just cold.

2. She asks me if I miss it. Nope. But it sure is pretty to look at.

3. What can I do with this lavender without dropping it all over the floor?

4. I want to eat the blueberry pie for breakfast.

5. It’s saying the El Camino Diable will be 14 minutes slower than Vasco so I reluctantly take the shortest route even though I really want to drive the route with the least amount of altitude—and the slower drivers.

6. So cold.

7. I apply for the scholarship even though I don’t even know if I can travel in February but I figure I’ve got nothing to lose. And plus, I really want to do. And also, you never get what you don’t ask for. And also, I could totally go to New Orleans twice in two months; i think it would be good for me.

8. She says that we talk a lot more at dinner when Dad isn’t here. I laugh and say that she’s right because he’s always just talking to me.

9. Laughing fit. I look around at all of their faces and then realize that I actually do like them. They still fight over whose turn it is to sit beside me at dinner. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it didn’t make me feel a little bit better about myself.

10. Her water broke.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy

1. More wind. Even stronger? The sound of palm fronds entangling themselves.

2. Muffin-tin hash browns. Turns out only one of the boys like them. I got it wrong.

3. Today will be a short day in the office but only because of this meeting for which I am excited but also dreading.

4. I pull out the camera because I miss making. Because making soothes me. Because I just needed 10 minutes to create for myself and myself only.

5. Because I’m trying not to put too much pressure on myself and my art at this moment, trying to be patient with whatever the next iteration is while also worrying that if I stop completely, I’ll be become frozen.

6. What to do?

7. I try to push away the thought that maybe we were being extreme. No, this is just caring. This is just us knowing that there is a disconnect. This is just us making sure that everyone is being held accountable because this is a team effort. I want to see the trajectory shift. There is time, but there isn’t. Also: if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…

8. It still kills me that he’s the only one in the family who will not touch the risotto and salmon with buerre rouge. I mean.

9. I drank too slowly at dinner and only got one glass of the Chateau de Bligny Brut Rosé Champagne.

10. I needed this conversation with Lola. I didn’t realize I needed it. There’s a certain kind of medicine in being asked questions about yourself. Your mouth opens and reveals to you the things you didn’t know you thought or the things you needed to remember.