Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Two
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Morning meditation.
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What you really are is love. Deviating away from that truth is what causes pain.
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More and more woodpeckers.
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Him in his jersey looking so much older than his age. And when has it ever been this easy to get him out of the door for school?
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Familiar faces from far away.
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I sit on a bench under the breezeway. It is quiet. I scroll through Pinterest while I wait, gather inspiration. I catch myself getting excited at the possibility of making something new. Your surroundings matter.
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I reassure them that we are also so unsure. What is the right thing to do? None us really know.
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Feels cooler than it should.
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“Further, the symbolic meaning of woodpecker indicates a return to our roots, or having trust in our basic (gut) feelings. Dr. Carl Jung observed the woodpecker as a symbol of a return to the womb of creativity. In this observation the tree is symbolic of a womb; earthy, grounded, sturdy and secure. The woodpecker’s home within the tree is analogous of a fierce determination to return and protect that which is sacred to us.”
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More champagne.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & One
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Really can’t sleep in. Not even twenty extra minutes. Where did my morning go?
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Half a cup of coffee. He says I should do the things that make me happy.
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Another orange sun.
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Always learning something new.
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He talks about how the three fires in one week. How the helicopters shake his house. How he’s tired of it.
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This is probably the most right choice.
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Everything is sepia-toned.
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Thick slice of focaccia dipped in olive oil.
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I see little bits of ash still flying around but we’d all rather be outside.
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But we don’t even know if we should be out anywhere doing anything. And yet we both needed this.
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I believe in a lot of things and I really believe in her.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred
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Still no power.
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I lean the flashlight against the mirror to bounce the light around the bathroom. It’s enough to get me ready. Smart move to lay out all the clothes the night before so I wouldn’t have to search in the dark.
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The hum of generators.
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I plug the toaster into one of the surge protectors and find a stick of softened butter on the counter. No clean plates so I lay out the sliced bagels on the last cleanish napkin.
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There is ash on the hood of the car.
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“Is there power in town?” “I don’t know. Probably.” “If we buy a house, can it not be further up the mountain? Can it be in town? I don’t like having to do this.”
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Pinot noir grapes up close. I miss learning about wine.
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She reminds me that I can’t control what happens anyway. What is the worst-case scenario? Probably something I can handle. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” she says. “You’ll find a way to navigate this. You already are.”
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“This is the second time I’ve been left at school.”
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We talk about empathy. How did we come to have it. Why don’t others have it. What are the conditions required to develop it. “I’m going to get a little spiritual and say it has something to do with being an old soul. We’ve been here enough times to understand and know.”
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Can’t find my wallet.
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Beef tacos. Gringo tacos, he calls them.
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Nicolas Feuillatte Reserve Exclusive Brut while the sun sets. Because it’s a Wednesday and there are tiny but good things happening. We can see the light at the end.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Nine
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I push against his back to wake him.
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Headlamps. Where are the headlamps? I remove my sweater. It's too warm for this many layers. Can't find the headlamps.
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“What are you doing? It's almost 3am.”
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Sixty minutes.
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We make the school loop and then head down to pick up the cases.
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Fog sitting below the smokey haze.
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Quiet.
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Leftover potatoes and vegetables for lunch. A few more hours before kids are home again.
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“I don't have time to do anything.” I kind of like that.
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Garage door won't open. “The power is out,” they say. I'd rather be without power that without water.
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I tell him that the interesting thing about this is that life keeps on going. You can't just press pause.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Eight
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Monday morning.
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Thick fog. Humid. Warmer than usual.
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All comfort.
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Banana bread with chocolate chips.
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We drop off two and the head to the doctor’s office. It’s a quiet ride. I turn up Dua Lipa.
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I look at the X-rays as she takes them. Nothing abnormal. Not surprised.
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So freaking hot on the front porch.
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Down the mountain. Up the mountain. Down the mountain.
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I think she and I are thinking the same thing even though neither of us are saying it.
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He doesn’t think I can do it.
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Something tells me to look and see. Things have changed. A ping of sadness that we are no longer sharing these kinds of things—that we no longer share anything at all.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Seven
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Relief.
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Just enough time to brew some decaf.
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I start to drink the coffee and then realize I don’t like it very much at all.
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I order the extra school supplies. I laugh at the $13 binder on her list.
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Green juice and deep conversation outside while the little one is at camp. It doesn’t feel like enough time but it’s better than no time.
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I rub his head and then have to shake the sweat off of my hand. “We didn’t stop moving.”
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It just feels like it’s something that I should do. It wouldn’t be so full of synchronicity if it wasn’t right. Right?
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I made it.
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I somehow missed the memo that he doesn’t like potatoes.
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Of course. There’s always one.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Six
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In this dream, someone has stolen my shoes from outside the front door. They are my only shoes. The only way for me to retrieve them is to play a weird game where I must chase after people in New York City. I am incredibly angry that someone has stolen my only pair of shoes.
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In this dream, he and I and a few other wine people are visiting with the winemaker. We are gathered around him as he tells story after story. He gets tired and he goes to rest. We leave.
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Heading down the valley to do our grocery shopping and seeing the hot air balloons dotting the skyline never gets old.
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We wander slowly.
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“Another feather,” I say. “Good signs,” I say. I find three in total.
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I tell him I don’t want help because I am using this time to work out the problem in my head.
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Sweat dripping down my face.
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She’s calling to cancel her tasting because the friend she saw last week, the friend that is vaccinated, tested positive for COVID.
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Satisfied.
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Easy dinner on the grill. Bartholomew Estates Marsanne Roussanne blend.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Five
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I look toward the wall and see the light. They are already up. They always are.
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Cleaning clothes.
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I make only enough coffee for him.
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Not enough time. How did I do this last year? Maybe I need to switch the days around.
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I stare out over the vineyards and the houses. The car is quiet. “I’m really glad we live here,” I say to myself. “This is a beautiful place to live.”
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Follow the good feeling.
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We hug. I haven’t seen her all summer. She says that this is a really great place to live and that it’s better with us here. “I just said that earlier today - well, to myself,” I say.
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“High school comes in five,” he says.
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Neighborhood hangout. We are the youngest ones there and I still enjoy my time. There are a lot of Cheetos. I wonder if she thought kids would come.
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This view. There are worse things.
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“And then I couldn’t tell whether, after that, good things were happening because I was saying thank you, or they just — I was noticing them. But there is blessings in my curses, even today — I mean, every day.” - Kevin Kling, On Being Podcast
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So much serendipity today.
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If I said these things out loud, people would think I’m crazy. But I am seeing it all with my own eyes.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Four
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Is it today? It must be today.
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Chewier and softer, they said. I add 50% more butter and 25% more sugar. This is not granola, more like a tuile, but whatever.
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Tea time.
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She looks cute. But it’s not cute. She looks grown. She’s growing up.
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This mug does not fit in the cup holder. I start to ask her to hold it, but then see a vision of me heading down the switchback and her spilling it all over herself. I change my mind.
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Another enthusiastic wave.
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“Sunny came home to her favorite room / Sunny sat down in the kitchen / She opened a book and a box of tools / Sunny came home with a mission.”
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Welp. Whatever. It’s only for a season.
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Better.
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Not better.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Three
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The downside of drinking a gallon of water a day.
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Leftover blueberry cake.
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A long time of saying nothing but art is what saves me.
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First day.
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I stand over him for 20 minutes. “You only use 25% of what you learn at school in life,” he says. “But what’s 25% of zero?” I say. He moves his legs from under the blanket.
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I wave at him so hard. It was worth it after all.
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“You we’re singing. You were happy after your phone call.”
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Eyes going cross from staring at the screen.
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If you don’t ask, you won’t know.
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Blackberry frosé at the chamber mixer. Meet a few new faces. Win a gift card.
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All the chocolate chip cookie dough is gone.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Two
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4:32. Here we go again.
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Maybe just a cake instead of muffins.
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This is taking forever.
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Shift in plans to take care of the thing I don’t want to take care of.
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I tell her that it’s gotten even worse, that I could barely eat breakfast because my jaw keeps popping in and out of place.
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I pause on the way down to take in the view: rows of green vines, large stainless steel tanks off in the distance (Beringer?), peaked barn roofs.
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I really have no poker face.
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Ultimately, sadness. A little bit of fear.
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Go and find the ones that will make you smile.
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I just don’t want to break any more of this tooth.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-One
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Up before the alarm but not mad about it.
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Water, water, water.
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Revising the schedule.
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I write that maybe I’ll stop doing this. I’ll just keep it to myself.
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This is taking longer than I thought it would. Type, tab, enter. Tab, tab, tab, tab, tab, enter. Click. This is really a two-screen kind of situation.
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A quiet walk.
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I stand at the window and watch the butterfly glide and glide and glide. I feel the corners of my mouth turning up.
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Western Tiger Swallowtail?
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In today’s episode of night court, who ate all the Oreos?
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Is there enough ice cream for me?
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety
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Quiet skies.
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Hot tea and meal planning.
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I am not the only one waiting for the doors to open. Headphones in my ears. Move slowly.
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Wait and wait and wait. The woman in my ears is talking about being in on an airplane in a holding pattern above the clouds and waiting for this green flash that sometimes occurs when the sun sets. So choose to look for magic.
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I do feel better after the walk.
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I did it. I got a smile.
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Leftovers for lunch.
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This could become my new favorite spot.
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Always one of my favorite hours of the week.
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I tell him that my jaw is jacked up. He agrees. This whole entire year it’s gotten worse and worse.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Nine
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How much of this is fog and how much of this is smoke?
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Slow start to the morning. More water and hot tea. Laundry while we wait.
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I don’t think she’s coming.
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He only wants one kind of shoe. “Not in my budget,” I say. “Can I have this hoodie?” “Nope. Not until you can follow the rules about wearing hoodies in school,” I say. He walks out of the store. This is thirteen.
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Things are more normal at lunch. Though I am too tired to say much.
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Cobbler first. Then the chimichurri. Boil the potatoes. Fry the onions. Get the focaccia dough started. Chop all the herbs.
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I tell him that I miss cooking. I miss feeling as though I had the time to cook a good meal.
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I keep thinking of how she wrote to me that I often write about being tired. I think of how I keep taking blood tests and quitting caffeine to try to fix this fatigue. It’s just me. I am the one making myself tired.
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We all agree that we do not regret our move to this town.
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This or something better.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Eight
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We shouldn’t buy the house. I look over at the clock; it is 3am.
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Another morning, another headache.
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More jaw popping.
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The squawking scrub jays. They flit from branch to branch shaking loose the dry pine needles.
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I tell him about my first thought waking up. He does not disagree. Okay. We will stay.
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I see the reflection of the sun in the window. It looks like neon tangerine. Oh, that’s not fog, it’s smoke.
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She gives us permission to walk her to the gym, but then she see two of her friends and she’s just fine. She leaves us at the sidewalk, turns around one more time to wave goodbye.
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OG donut.
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“And we just moved last year. I don’t think I want to do it again,” I tell him. “And I know that the next place will not be exactly like this one, but this home is too good to leave for something like that.”
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The air smells like smoke. I make a mental list of all the things I should have together and ready. Add air purifier to the list. Add more n95s to keep the cars well-stocked. Add more extension cords for the generator.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Seven
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Every time I start to wake I feel the headache return. I turn off the alarm and close my eyes.
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Grateful for the coolness of the air creeping in through the window.
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Two coyotes. Remember to look that up.
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I open the door and stare at her and then smile. And then laugh. Right. It’s Thursday.
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I apologize for not being able to say the words. “I’m sorry, I have a headache. I can’t quite think,” I say. But one of us or both of us manage to get the words out.
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The drive is long, but it goes quickly. I like it over on this side. The sky is still low, the air is still cool.
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No one is wearing their mask in here, but I thought it was a mandate?
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More and more my online life is becoming my real life and it’s mostly a really beautiful thing.
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She’s just real and I like that.
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I walk outside barefoot to get his water bottle and then remember that she said she saw rattlesnakes a few days ago and I realize that being barefoot outside is a really bad idea this time of year.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Six
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Where’s my sweater?
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Day two.
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Keep the list short and realistic.
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The fog is dense and low this morning. Moody and quiet. Feels like fall.
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First, clean the garage. Second, set up the studio.
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He stops and asks me if I’m making a movie. No, just experimenting. I watch more neighbors walk by. I keep on sing Dua Lipa.
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Not entirely convinced.
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Scared.
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Not exactly the way I wanted it to be, but that’s not a bad thing.
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When this is over, everything will be better.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Five
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So sore. Sore from what?
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Nettles instead of coffee.
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Cool breezes. Still exhausted. Not sure why I’m so tired. Is it the swan making that honking sound?
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Lunch in bed.
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The feeling of needing to escape but unsure of how to do it and that’s when the panic sets in. No good choices are made in fear. Shift the stream of thought.
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Where do I have power?
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There is always an excuse.
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We stand outside the gate and watch the end of practice. I tell him that I’m so tired and so sore. I just don’t feel well. “Stress,” he says.
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We moved here a year ago. Been in this house a year. I still haven’t bought an extender for the duster.
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Push through or surrender?
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Four
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So quiet.
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The rumble of the neighbor’s truck pulling away.
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Little strip of pale light above the trees. The cawing of the crows.
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Always so much paperwork. Find the documents, print everything, paper clip it together. Decide to leave the emergency contact blank.
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I don’t think it’s my imagination that he looks older today.
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Rib dinner plate with beans and coleslaw. The kids eat ice cream, the grown-ups drink water and talk.
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They play on the playground for a bit before the Wiffle ball comes out. Boys versus girls. Softballers versus Baseballers. People sit on the benches and watch us play.
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He asked for chicken parm for dinner and an ice cream cake. I move slowly. I’ve been non-stop since 6 am, I say. Let out a sigh. Bits of mozzarella cheese are stuck to the bottom of my feet.
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“It was one of, if not the best, birthdays I’ve ever had.”
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One day we will not have to talk about this anymore.
Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Three
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The tickle of a breeze.
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No. Maybe it’s still a good idea to pursue.
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The thing about meeting someone for breakfast after 8 is that when you wake up at 5:30, you’ve already eaten by 6:30. Which would explain why I’m feeling particularly full these days: too many second breakfasts.
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I send him the screenshot from her story. Sometimes we just need the reminder that it’s not our imaginations. This is a thing
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Been driving by this place for years.
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Yeah, we did do it. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been mostly worth it.
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Power out. Since 9:45, they tell us. It’s been almost two hours. Good. It’s good to be bored.
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We stop at the mart. Could still walk to get a cup of coffee or a sandwich and some chips. No pastries. No. This would just require a lot more planning.
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I tell them that my youngest is will officially be double-digits tomorrow. But to make them feel even older, I will have two kids in middle school. Two. Even I can’t believe it.
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Oh, shoot. I still need to make that ice cream cake.