Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Two
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4-something.
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Soft turtleneck in camel, white pants. I dig this color combination. Today is supposed to be cleaning day but I can change after all the meetings.
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I read him a quote from the book. “Funny, isn’t it?” It’s exactly this.
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I tell her all the things I implemented since our last call. They are working well. We decide that I should also tell my co-workers and employers about my personal goal of reducing my time on electronics, and that I need to make sure I develop a plan to release a client from a contract, and that resetting my circadian rhythm may take some time.
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He’s going to miss the call.
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She asks me if I want to read first. “No, sorry. I wasn’t expecting this level of work and I’m coming off of fire evacuation so my schedule is….I’ll be ready with work next time.” I laugh to myself and sit back in my chair with my cup of tea and listen to everyone continue to read. Of course she asked me to read…I was talking so much about people’s work.
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How do you make money having conversations?
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If you’re not learning, you’re not growing. Growing exhausts and excites.
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I can hear a big of excitement in her voice. I remember to lean into that.
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I call them while I make dinner - meatballs and sauce.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-One
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I hear the door creak open. Someone must be trying to sneak some X-box.
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“The power is out.” I send him back to bed with a flashlight just in case.
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Nothing on PG&E yet. Only 3:30am. I close my eyes.
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I look out the window to see if she’s awake and has power. She’s awake, but there’s just the glow from the camp light she used during the last power outage. Okay, good. it’s not just us.
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Too much coffee too soon.
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Can’t get the images out of my mind.
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She is brown skinned and is of color and the rest of them are just trying, and that’s really awesome. Wait. Why isn’t my job just having conversations with people? I needed this today.
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We only hear what we want to hear.
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I tell him about the call and that I feel really good about this little town that we call home. There’s some promise here. I’m encouraged.
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I should really call my parents.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty
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It’s not time yet, but it also feels like it’s time.
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There is time for this: bake the potatoes, caramelize the onions, cook the bacon.
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At some point I just need to sit down and write.
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He says we need to be in the car by 8:20 am but we got in the car at 8:23. Apparently none of us know when the bell really rings. He’s just tardy every day. Oy.
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All of the feelings.
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“Just…walk…down…the…sidewalk…”
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I knew she was going to pick me. I feel out of my league. So out of my league. But I do belong here; I can do this.
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The sound of rain. Full on soup. Old John Mayer.
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It gets easier the more times you do it. Breathe through the mouth.
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Today is harder than yesterday.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Nine
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He’s not moving.
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Let’s see if I can stick to the plan.
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Less distracting writing a the dining room table instead of my desk. A brightening sky.
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Focus.
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Talking on the phone with a familiar voice. Oh, yeah. I do miss this.
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Chicken Tortilla Soup. I ask him to take a walk. I think of the last job and how they integrated different types of meetings as an option in the Outlook calendar. My last meeting was a walking meeting. Way more productive than a seated meeting.
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Sore all over and it’s not from the yoga.
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Late.
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We’re all struggling.
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“I’m trying to respect your boundaries.”
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Eight
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Finally made it past 5 am.
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Oat milk cappuccino. Watching the fog lift. Noticing the pale, pale, orange-pink sky behind the silhouette of the trees.
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So quiet.
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Someone is out on the green by the pond. What are they doing? Talking to the swans?
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I catch myself not thinking it’s a big deal but that number is a lot. How is it that the number suddenly seems attainable?
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“Godless” and laundry.
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The smell is redwood. Burned redwood. Petrichor? Blue, black, and white birds overhead. What is burned? What is “fall?”
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“Godless” and Scorpio New Moon vision board.
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Charlie Brown Christmas. 2018 Sarah’s Vineyard Pinot Noir Tondré’s Vineyard. “Digital Minimalism.”
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Incredibly loud crunch.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Seven
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Not going to even check the time.
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How much longer until I should leave? At least another 4 hours.
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Watching the sky come alive. Fog still low and milky. It looks like a painting.
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I don’t want to go, but I also do.
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I really do live in a beautiful place.
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No one is wearing masks. No one.
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“After the rain has fallen /After the tears have washed your eyes / You'll find that I've taken nothing, that / Love can't replace in the blink of an eye / After the thunder's spoken, and / After the lightning bolt's been hurled / After the dream is broken, there'll / Still be love in the world'“ - “After the Rain Has Fallen”, Sting
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Only one pound of chicken thighs came, not three. Golden Harvest it is.
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“My Sloppy Joe is all sloppy, no Joe!” “My Kung Pao Chicken is all Kung Pao, no chicken!”
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So much giggling. Genuine joy.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Six
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Getting better at navigating in the dark.
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Interrupting the quiet with the sound of the grinder.
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Move the table outside. The three of us can fit in the dining room again, right? Vacuum. Light incense.
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I wish she could come three times a week.
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Jittery and distracted. Week two of the declutter and realizing that I have to rework the boundary on tech now that work is thrown back into the mix. How responsive does one need to be?
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Rain. Real rain. Soothing rain. The kind of rain that makes you want to go back to bed and read until you fall asleep.
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No snacks.
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It’s a weird feeling seeing it posted. Realizing, once again, that even if you are the one who initiates change, it can still be painful. Even when doing the leaving is the best thing to do, you can still feel the sting of loss.
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Can Dream Big Darling be a monthly thing?
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2005 Araujo Estate Eisele Vineyard Sauvignon Blanc. 1978 Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon. 1975 Chateau St. Jean Cabernet Sauvignon. 1985 Diamond Creek Gravelly Meadow Cabernet Sauvignon. 1975 Joseph Phelps Vineyards Eisele Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon. 1997 Dunn Vineyards Howell Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon. 1996 Araujo Estate Eisele Vineyard Syrah.
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I tell her that my goal is to own land in Mendocino, mixed-use, but definitely with a vineyard. She asks me if I’ve talked to Theo.
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Note to self: Speak up more. Let people know what you want. Someone can help you get it.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Five
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Sigh.
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I wake up early, but her light is always on before mine.
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I go ahead and make the coffee.
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Ripples in the pond. Squawking jays. Thin gray squirrels jumping from branch to branch.
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The circular conversation.
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She asks me how I’m feeling. I am feeling all the feelings.
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Leftover beef stroganoff before scrubbing toilets.
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We decide that just because I wake up at 4:00 am, it doesn’t mean I should start working at 4:30 am.
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Their faces and their voices and their stories. Laughing. Finding some joy.
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Sigh.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Four
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I guess they didn’t come today.
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Wait. 4:12 am? That would be why they didn’t wake me up; they haven’t come yet.
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What else to do but get to work.
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Model Bakery at 6:40 am and we are not the first people. He orders a bag of muffins, gloves one his hands. He leaves in a newish Corvette.
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I press send.
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Not a repeat.
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Hours. Always hours with her. He says we always giggle.
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He ask me how I’m feeling. I say I am feeling all the things. I am a mixture of feelings: relief, sadness, anger, confusion about said anger.
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I forgot to call.
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Is it Friday? Only Wednesday.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Three
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If I can hear myself then I am awake.
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Cold ankles. Officially the season of cold feet and hands.
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Really need to get a regular coffee pot. He’s going to come down to cold coffee.
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Nerves are a good thing. Right? I think of what I told him yesterday. “We tend to take calculated risks.”
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The squirrels are having a blast in the trees.
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How is it already time to get him? I need a break anyway, I guess.
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I thank him for helping her clean out my fridge. And for saving my dutch oven.
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Already time to get the other two! I’m going to be late.
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He’s going to ask me for Gott’s every time he gets in the car, isn’t he?
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Oy.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Two
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Please let it be past 4 o’clock.
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So cold. How long do I have to wait before making coffee? Leftover salad for breakfast.
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Back at it.
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Already two cups of coffee. Push past the impulse to brew another pot.
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Focused.
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My ankles are so cold.
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What happened to my ability to slow down time?
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He does most of the driving and I am forever grateful for that.
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Someone she knows is in her ceramics class and that’s a good thing, I think.
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“Nightstands would be something special.” I laugh. I’ve been looking for nightstands for 5 years.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-One
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These early wake-up times are kind of funny, kind of not.
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Drinking coffee slowly.
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The hunt for a desk. I never know what I’m looking for until I find it.
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Slightly overcast as if it might rain.
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One box at a time. I find a picture of him from seven years ago. What happened to that smile? Leftover bits from Fever Dreams. Journals from the past two years.
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Rain. Brief but cleansing.
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Dried wildflowers in the windowsill.
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Almost done.
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Worth it.
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So many stars. All the stars. “This maybe the night that my dreams might let me know / All the stars are closer, all the stars are closer, all the stars are closer.”
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty
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“What time is it?” “Early.” “How early?” “4:12.”
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Must stop falling asleep before 8.
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Today can go slowly.
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Hands getting cold.
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I try not to stare at the destruction.
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It’s only open for fire debris at 7 am. He sends us back down the hill. The colors of the valley below.
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Station for hot chai and a glazed donut. Yeasty. Chewy. Not too sweet. We get morning buns for the kids to eat while we wait.
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Surprise sleepover for her.
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There is no rhyme or reason for any of it.
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Just need a desk.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Nineteen
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“Are you getting up?” “Yep.” “Good.”
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I turn on the heat so that it’s easier for them to want to get out of bed.
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“It’s kind of weird to see all the rubble and things burned down and right next to it it’s like nothing happened.” I turn to look out of the window. He is right. I think the same thing to myself every time.
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“What’s that smoke over there?” I tell him that if there was a fire, I would have gotten an alert. No alerts. No fires.
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Almost late.
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There are no more pumpkins. I realize that because I was gone the whole month of December, I’ve missed out on fall decorations. The stores are in Christmas mode already.
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Laundry. Still so much laundry.
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It’s good to see her, even though it’s just the eyes. I hand her a card and an amaryllis to say “thank you.”
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So cool it’s almost cold. Cold.
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It’s only 6:54.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighteen
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“Don’t make yourself miserable trying to keep me alive.” I feel like I’m supposed to tell her this, but it was just a dream.
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Jayne comes today.
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The smell of coffee wafting up the stairs. The sound of heat forcing itself through the vent. The clink of a spoon. The desire to just curl up where I am.
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Call number one.
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Another morning of getting them all to school. The most normal things have been in a long time.
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Yoga with Jayne.
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Some of the leaves are turning yellow. A little breeze shaking everything loose.
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Call number two.
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I think it still smells like burning wood. 2016 Sauvignon Blanc. Quiet.
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Who’s going to make sure they go to bed tonight?
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Seventeen
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3:23 am.
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4:33 am.
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Warm water with a little apple cider vinegar. Coffee.
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I try to find the turkey vultures. They’ve been perched on the branches overlooking the pond. I hope they don’t try to eat those little swanlings.
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I get out of the car and then realize I don’t have my mask. I walk quickly back to it. I think he knows where he’s going.
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There is more to be done.
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My screentime is down 43% from last week. I put the phone back down.
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Grateful for the slowness of the day.
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Everyone is just much happier. So much happier.
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Trying not to fall asleep before the children do.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixteen
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4:33 am. I think I fell asleep before 8.
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If I could repeat the languorous feeling from yesterday, that would be great. A week off upon return was the right gift to myself.
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Trying not to be frightened about what today might bring.
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Warm water to start. Kale. Bacon - too crunchy. Coffee.
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One kid recognizes him and tells him he knows where the classroom is. She and I walk and walk and walk. I can’t find numbers on the doors. I spot a parent. The parents points me to a teacher. The teacher points me to the right room.
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A quiet house. We’ll see how long this lasts.
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Three things: the right values, a little bit of freedom, the opportunity to grow.
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Snacks on the table.
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I make dinner early because I can, and, for whatever reason, the days just feel so long.
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There’s still so much to do. So much to do.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifteen
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Cool. Cold. Monday.
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Could go either way. Trying not to fret about making a mistake. Trying to envision the best possible outcome.
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The scary part, of course, is that what I want has not yet been created. But I don’t know if I have the energy to create it. But then again, I haven’t asked for help. I must get over this feeling as though I must figure everything out on my own.
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Let it be easy.
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But I’m not the only one. And that is somewhat comforting.
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Forcing myself to stop the impulse of checking.
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He's talking, and maybe even happy?
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Time. It's just nice to have time.
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miss them. I am grateful that I miss them. That is a special thing.
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Roasted chicken and shallots. Braised potatoes. Parmesan chard.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fourteen
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So dark. 5:42 am.
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Waiting for the light to come. Do I even want to see?
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No coffee.
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I can see rubble through the trees. Browned trees. He tells me about what he saw on the drive back up the hill. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see.
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We finish moving him into the other room. Build the desks. Not what I envisioned, but it will do for now. I’ll move things around later.
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He keeps asking if he’s going to school.
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Laundry and laundry and more laundry.
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“It was really close,” she says. We stand at her window and look across to see the large chunks of concrete.
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Make soup, then nap.
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I should stop thinking about the worst outcome and pray for the best one instead.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirteen
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3:22am.
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I just don’t feel like myself.
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Not enough time. There is never enough time.
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What is that smell? Oh. Cow manure.
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That feeling of anxiety again. Like a hollow feeling plus a pounding heart.
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I can see it in his face. He doesn’t want to go back. He thinks he would rather be back in New Orleans or with his friends in Chicago.
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I don’t really need any more signs though this is definitely another one. I’m going to have to do the work. But I don’t want to.
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“…I am more satisfied with the exploration of the best, most simple and elegant question than I am with any righteous, vocational answer.”
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It feels good to be back? Yes. It feels good to be back.
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So much to do.