Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Two
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Grateful for the cool air.
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Remembering that I don’t have to get up just yet. I slink beneath the blankets again and close my eyes.
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Last little bit of cereal before I drink the coffee.
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Sunlight slipping through the clouds.
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I drive him down to the field for camp and try to keep my eyes on the road but I keep wanting to look east toward the ridge. The mountains look like shadowy ghosts and the light is yellow and thin and it almost looks like a dream.
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“Wait, I’m not registered?” “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”
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Slow.
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Not again.
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Ah, see. The universe will sometimes present you with something that is almost the right thing but isn’t exactly the thing. It’s a test. Get quiet. Is it what you really want?
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All the wires are crossed.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-One
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An odd series of dreams.
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Gray skies. Fog hanging low. A welcomed sight. Has me wishing for winter.
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A quiet drive down to the floor for pastries. The colors of the morning: muted greens and browns against the white-gray skies. Sixty degrees.
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She is the only patron without a mask on. This is going to be a weird transition back to “normal.”
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A break in the fog. Glistening green vines. This is not so bad. This is not bad at all.
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A familiar face in the grocery store. It is sinking in that this is home.
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I tell her that I appreciate how much she cheers for all of the kids. She knows every name and is at every game. She has my mother’s name. It is nice to put a face to the voice.
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They say it’s best not to get too excited. This little town doesn’t really get very far, but maybe they haven’t watched enough ESPN to know that miracles happen on a field. Sometimes, it’s just about timing and serendipity. Anything can happen.
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Another win.
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We relocate the beers and bellinis and fried chicken to the other side of the field, settle back into the chairs, and watch the next game.
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He is not wrong. It is a heart change, and that change of heart isn’t going to come from education.
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As I say it out loud, I think to myself, “I’m not exactly sure if it’s going to work, but I’m not going to freak myself out about it.” Life will find a way.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty
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That was a good night of rest. Could it have been the blanket?
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I say I’m not going to drink, but I drink it anyway. I’m going to stop telling myself that I’m not going to drink it anymore.
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Cote said to think about adding in the things you want, and then, slowly, the things you don’t want will fall away.
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Juneteenth.
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We put our blanket down underneath the tree. I like it here. I’m glad we have the early game before the afternoon heat kicks in.
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Beers and baseball talk and kid talk and shared philosophies.
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The good things take time.
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A win.
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Under the weighted blanket for another nap. We both agree that the first night of sleep was exceptional. Will it continue?
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We’re both so tired. “The heat,” I say. “And life.”
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Nine
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Still early.
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Another loud morning on the roof. I wonder what they are up to today. I wonder when I will figure out who “they” are.
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Can already feel the heat.
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It’s more like hot yoga today. I keep twisting into the sun, feeling its warmth on my face. The light behind my eyes turns bright orange.
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Internet down.
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I keep worrying that I’m going to miss something. And then I remind myself that nothing is really that urgent.
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Still no birth certificate.
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Still no internet.
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“That’s a nice idea,” I say. He says he realized that he has to put some work into making friends, too. “Funny. We just talked about that last night. Developing friendships takes effort and intention. Like dating…it goes both ways.”
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I climb under the weighted blanket for a bit of respite before dinner.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Eight
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The audacity. I know that this is the coolest part of the day, but how rude of you, whoever you are, running a chainsaw at 5am.
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The thing or things that live on the roof above the bathroom are extra loud this morning. Maybe it was the chainsaw.
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But at least I get a few more minutes alone.
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I open the sliding glass doors to see if the air is just a little cooler. It is, but not by much.
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Obviously a tourist.
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Rescinding the invitation.
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There is potential here, and it feels exciting.
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Why do the dental techs talk to you as if you are free to have a conversation with them as they dig around in your mouth and scrape your teeth? Also, should we maybe not ask people about pandemic job loss or fires? Let me just look at the big fir tree.
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I try to look composed. I decide it doesn’t matter. Make-up free with PMS breakout skin and fading eyebrows.
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I decide to say the number out loud because women don’t talk numbers, and I need to change that for at least myself. And because I really want it, and if I can’t say it out loud, then how am I supposed to get it?
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I feel that pang of not-enoughness, of lesser-than, of shame. I quickly remind myself that my story is my own, and I have achieved things because of and despite those things.
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Suddenly it is 10:30pm, and I am up way past my bedtime, yet I find I don’t want to go.
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Yes. More of this, please.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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In the dream, a baby, maybe a year or so old, cuddles up beside me in the bed and says, “good grape.”
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Yes. It’s going to be a hot one. Can already tell.
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No one is eating breakfast.
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Everything is a practice.
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What is my role in this? Is it really my responsibility?
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I think of how he says how much he likes seeing me have my camera out in the morning. He knows it brings me joy. I know it brings me joy.
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He picks out bits of flowers and leaves that are still stuck in my hair.
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At the end of the day, it’s just freedom that I crave. But don’t we all?
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We sit in the car and talk. We are very much alike, he and I: long-legged and short-torsoed, emotional but quiet, brooding, sometimes difficult to please, deep thinker.
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Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. He talks about how someone at the top decided to save five cents on each unit to help their bottom line therefore giving us cardboard containers that collapse in our hand while trying to scoop out the ice cream.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Six
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No sounds of waves, only the birds from outside.
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No coffee.
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My day for drop-off. Someone has realized they’ve forgotten something. “You owe your dad big.” “Not really. He owes me big, too.”
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“You’ve got quite a crowd here. You’re doing this every day?” “No, we’re taking turns. But yes, five kids is a lot.”
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“What’s the opposite of a miracle?”
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One of those days when no thought is complete.
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While I wait, I take a moment to seek out some delight: the flowers, the tall grasses blowing in the breeze, the sky, vine patterns on the hillsides.
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100 degrees in the sun.
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“One question…” To be fair, he only ever asks one question at a time. But he says the phrase so many times that it feels like he’s only ever asking questions. Twenty questions a day.
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I am afraid I won’t be able to fall asleep.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Five
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Birds are much louder today.
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How many more times will I walk by this box without opening it?
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She asked for the blueberry muffins today. They smell good.
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These flowers though.
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He wakes up on his own. That’s a good sign. That means he’s excited.
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I make a mistake. I hate that I made it. I hate making any kind of mistake, but I especially hate this kind because I care. But this is what happens when you rush. But I just accept it with grace and move forward.
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She unwraps the velvet. We add the typewriter and my journals, the dried eucalyptus, an artichoke, and crystals. Now, it’s a scene.
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I almost forget about the call.
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But will they even understand it?
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My phone thinks the only places I go are the baseball fields and the Safeway.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Four
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The birds are quieter today. Oh wait, the window is closed.
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“Do you want coffee?” “No.” “No?” “Yes. Yes, coffee.”
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Coffeecake from a box. I clean while it bakes. Kids still asleep. Early but it feels late. The start to a long day.
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Oh yeah, basketball camp starts tomorrow.
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Why didn’t I think of this years ago? “Sommer Camp,” I laugh to myself.
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Laundry. Laundry.
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He asks if the stories are true. I say they’re based on facts but still a mystery. But that’s not the same thing as saying they’re true.
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So quiet today. No jackhammers. No saws. No leafblowers.
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And just like that, they day is done.
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Mango popsicle.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Three
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Warmer this morning. A clue for what the rest of the day will feel like.
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We woke up worried about different things that are really about the same thing.
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He waves to us from the window. Of course, he’s awake.
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She tells us that she is tired today, that she almost overslept. I tell her that I hope the rest of her day goes quickly so that she can get some rest.
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“When our eyes are graced with wonder, the world reveals its wonders to us. There are people who see only dullness in the world and that is because their eyes have already been dulled. So much depends on how we look at things. The quality of our looking determines what we come to see.” - John O’Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace
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I find come crushed flowers and a key, an image of the sky and the tops of mountains, and glue them to the card. I miss doing these kinds of things.
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Taking my own advice.
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This “temporary” phase feels like it’s becoming permanent.
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Last-minute baseball scrimmage.
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I walk all the way to the park to use the restroom. I reach a grove of trees and under it are pockets of golden light from the setting sun. I make little clouds of dust as I walk across the sandy soil.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Two
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Business on the top, party on the bottom.
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The morning feels so much more spacious now.
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This light. This light.
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I miss my parents.
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I almost fall asleep during savasana.
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Everyone is from Sonoma. That is interesting. We buy shrubs, cherries, cheese, bread, and two huge bunches of flowers. It makes me miss the farmstands in Brentwood.
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Everything she is saying. Yes, yes, yes.
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“Hey. I read your post today and have a big sister message for you, It’s time! It’s time to do the work. Period.”
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Discipline and strategy.
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The feeling is Empathy.
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I tell him that is the first time that I’ve felt a little nervous.
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I ask him a question because I know he will have an answer for me. He always does.
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“My choices are my own.”
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-One
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Reminds me of mornings sleeping on the enclosed porch.
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Still bummed that we won’t be there until August.
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Right. Down to Groskopf. The bonus is seeing her.
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Bright yellow dress. Bright purple hair. I could sit here for hours but we both have things we need to do.
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Still waiting.
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That sounds about right.
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Scarfing down burgers and onion rings while waiting for them to get out of school. Finally done. No more worrying about not waking people up in time.
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She almost hit that kid with her gigantic car.
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Young woman in a black shirt and a black skirt. Tall black and white striped socks and black boots. Golden field behind her. Almost like a vision from a nightmare.
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So tired. So tired. So tired.
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Rosemary-Pear Shrub. Corn croquettes.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty
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Cooler than yesterday. I don’t mind.
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Make the coffee first. Do the dishes. Wipe down the countertops.
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Am I still okay with this decision?
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I remember that the cheapest place in town to get a cup of coffee is at the fancy market in town.
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Bright sun. Light breeze. Clear sky. As he would say, “it’s always a beautiful day here.”
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In all these years, no one has ever even offered him the opportunity? I am angry but not surprised.
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He pours us samples from all of the tanks: Vine Hill Ranch, Beckstoffer To Kalon, Pure Magic, and Black Magic. That is special enough. But it’s the way he talks about the wines that is most special. This is an artist speaking. He anthropomorphizes the wines. He speaks of them as if they are people. It is mesmerizing. I want to try to remember everything he is saying, but I know I can’t because there are too many other things on my mind. “Wine is honest.”
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We sit and each lunch with the bottling team and cellar crews: refried beans, rice, chicken, beef, chips, salsa, and guacamole. I pile everything onto my plate. It is uncharacteristic of me.
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I hate the feeling of being late.
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What day is it?
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They are delightful. Our kind of people. The right ones. We are together for almost two hours, but it is worth it.
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“It is time.”
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Nine
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Big yawn. Soft light slipping through the slats. The birds are rather quiet this morning.
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The sputter of the coffee machine.
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Gratitude.
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I tell her that I’m not as scared as I would have been a handful of years ago and that means something.
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Can I slow down time today?
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I realize that even very smart people make incorrect assumptions.
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There is so much room for growth.
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Forgot the leeks. Sub shallots. Out of butter. Check the crock. Can’t make a crust for the gallete. Just roast the apricots in cinnamon and sugar and top them with freshly whipped cream.
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We are too full for dessert anyway.
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Truthtelling is so good for you.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Eight
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Entering nightmare territory. Try to wake myself up.
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Too cool.
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Remember to make him the breakfast sausage. He wants the breakfast sausage today.
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Blinding myself with the light.
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A Monday that feels like Monday.
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When meeting in person for the first time doesn’t feel like meeting for the first time. The power of the internet.
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I sit down at the table and realize that it’s almost 3pm and I still haven’t eaten. I find leftover pesto and angel hair pasta and scarf down two bowls.
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But really, my point is, if it’s not a value you hold as a leader in your organization, don’t market to it. Also: every holiday does not have to be about making money.
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It feels like the right thing to do.
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No time outside today. Will fix that tomorrow.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Seven
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Bird song. Bird squawk?
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The way the light washes over everything—a holy moment.
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Familiar faces.
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Sparkling wine and pastries and conversation in the sun. No treework today.
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Yeah, this is a special place.
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I keep repeating the same story. That means it has affected me in a very strong way. “I just don’t want to waste too many years.”
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Double-header. I'm not hungry enough to pack a lunch, but I know that as soon as I sit down, I’ll want to munch.
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I try to keep a straight face.
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We warned him about the ants.
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He’s right.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Six
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Saturday.
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What time is it?
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I pour coffee into the to-go cup and my tiny cup and take it upstairs to my desk. Skype calls with her are my favorite.
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Two hours go by so fast.
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She has good energy. Maybe it’s just that she’s a Cancer and I’m a Cancer and we just get each other.
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I try to read while the trees crash down around me. I whimper each time. Like I’m being inflicted with a tiny paper cut with each snap.
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“You will learn shamelessness. Because you need it to succeed as an entrepreneur.” - How to Build a Goddamn Empire
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I see a familiar face and then another and then another and then the next thing you know it’s just loud talking and laughter and hugs and the online world turning into the real world. It is the sweetest thing.
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“Are you 50/50?” “More like 90/10.”
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What is this life?
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Five
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Soft light coming in through the open window. It’s not yet 5 because I don’t hear the birds. 4:49 am.
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Jayne comes today.
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Listening to what my body needs.
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Summer light.
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Wait. No Jayne.
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The drive down feels long today. But there are worse drives to make.
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No focus today. Maybe it’s the Peanut Butter Captain Crunch.
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Tree after tree after tree. The cracking and the crashing. The sawing and the chipping. Jackhammer? I thought we were done with those.
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We keep trading quotes from The Office and now I need to watch it all over again.
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Cake cone. Vanilla ice cream. Rainbow sprinkles. Green grass. Setting sun. Kids climbing on trees.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Four
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One day, I’ll figure out what that noise is.
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Need to reschedule that. And that. And that.
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Behind on this. That’s okay. I trust that I’ll get it done.
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He’s rewriting his list of dinosaurs. At the top: real ones he knows by name. At the bottom: fake ones from the movies.
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One more week.
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This version isn’t any better only because I know the shift is temporary.
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Am I supposed to be excited? I don’t fake emotions very well.
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In one hand are the things I want. In the other hand are the things I am no longer willing to put up with. Weighing what’s worth what.
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Pre-dinner glass and hammock swing. The quiet of the trees. “No one can steal my peace,” I say to myself. This belongs to me.
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The messages are all the same: take your time and trust yourself.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Three
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A little bit of fog.
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I need about 3 more pairs of these pants.
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Her face! Her voice. Her laugh. I miss her. Before we end our call, we mention the possibility of another gathering. That feels good to me.
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Red lips and red hat. We talk about the desire to build wealth as a means of creating change. How that desire used to not seem as urgent as it is now. I think of how far we’ve both come.
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“More is coming…”
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Our conversations are always deep, smart, real.
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For a minute, I envision us accidentally lighting the tablecloth on fire.
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Restored. What else could matter more than this?
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Now is not the time, but it is coming soon.
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I hear myself ranting. What am I trying to prove? Who am I trying to convince?