Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Eight
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The second nightmare is a continuation of the first.
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Ham and sweet potatoes and coffee.
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I scan the bookshelves and reach for ‘East of Eden’. I sit in front of the fire and notice how many pages are dog-eared. I flip to one in the middle and see words circled and underlined in pencil.
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The upside is that there will be time to read.
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Unstringing lights.
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The article outline takes shape quickly and I am relieved and confident that this one will be easy to write.
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There really is never anything in this Target.
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I worry that I will have to pull over on the side of the road and this is something I never have to do but I really feel like I’m going to do it right now.
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Now they’re getting into the spirit.
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Not again.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Seven
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This amount of sleep is abnormal.
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More coffeecake for them. Leftover ham and scrambled eggs for me.
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“7:50 and no one is here yet?” They trickle in slowly, but everyone is on time. Barely.
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We wonder if it’s cultural conditioning. Boys are expected to devote their lives to their sport. I don’t see the same kind of expectation for the girls.
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Staring into the sun while I eat garlic fries. It feels busy down here.
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We sit on the bench outside of the barbershop and talk. We look at the trees on the roofs of cars and rate them. “It’s really noisy here.” “And this is not even a big city,” I say. “It’s just that our town is so small and quiet that this seems so loud.”
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He takes the corners a little more slowly than usual.
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I get her Christmas list presentation. It’s animated. I’m impressed. “I wonder where she gets it from?”
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It’s not yet 7pm.
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How am I this tired?
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Six
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Nine hours.
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I stick the coffee cake in the oven and then slice a leftover dinner roll in half, slather it with butter, and put it on the rack above the coffee cake.
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Neither one of us is a fan of this season but we’ve agreed to bake something this week. Something that will bring delight. Pavlova for her, a tart for me.
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I try to bring my thoughts to the present, to my breath. I try to unclench my jaw and focus. There is never a Friday where I don’t need this time with her.
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I tell him about the dream. I hope it is one of my prophetic ones. It felt so real.
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What will be different?
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Two kids down, one to go.
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She’s cleaning her room and listening to Christmas music. If nothing else, I will do it for her.
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Thanksgiving 2.0.
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“A Charlie Brown Christmas.”
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Five
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Quiet.
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The sound of the coffeemaker percolating, a faint quacking sound in the distance, the crackle of the fire.
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I haven’t spoken to him in a while so he is my first call.
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It just seems like we’re all in a rough spot right now. I remind myself that life is cyclical. There is always an up after a down.
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The dough bangs against the side of the bowl as the hook whips it around. I resist the urge to stick a podcast in my ears. It’s good to be alone with your thoughts.
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Three bowls in the drawer. They still have milk in them. “What were you going to do when they started to smell?,” I ask. He shrugs his shoulders.
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It’s been too long since we’ve all been together for a holiday, and that makes me sad.
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Small bowl of leftover beef stew.
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Oysters and champagne.
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Stuffed. Everything a delight. Gratitudes.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Four
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A slew of weird dreams. Time to wake myself up.
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I remember that she wanted waffles for breakfast.
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“You’re so patient.” “No, I’m not. “I’m just trying to establish a baseline of you being patient.”
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But it’s all just so beautiful.
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We’re probably in the same boat. This might be the first of many trips back.
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Relief.
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He asks me if my back hurts. I remind him that I just finished a job where I was bent over picking up heavy things so it’s not so bad.
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Tired.
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Time for a break.
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“Marcus Aurelius asked: ‘You see how few things you have to do to live a satisfying and reverent life?’” - Digital Minimalism
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Three
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Regular clothes.
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Cold. Not even 40 degrees. Feeling like winter.
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Kix.
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I forgot about the tree work in Rutherford. I pull a u-turn and head down the trail instead.
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I crane my neck to see if their cars are there. This is a thing I do now every time I drive past the winery: seeing if I can figure out who’s parked in the driveway, if they’re in the caves, wonder if he’s using his basketball hoop.
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No husband, no kids. Coffee and almond croissants and quiche and real talk.
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There is no such thing as control.
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I check myself.
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Put the phone down.
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The softness of a freshly washed bathmat.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Two
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Ready for the break.
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Still quiet. Coffee. Banana.
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The irony of wanting to take a break from social media when you have work that requires you to be on social media.
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Three at 7:56. This is a problem.
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Trying to hold it all together.
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“It’s finally ending. Or, really, I guess it’s just the beginning.
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The hypothesizing and storytelling is to soothe the nervous system, to imagine a resolution.
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Two strikes.
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Bright yellow leaves aglow.
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Flowers.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-One
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No alarm.
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Priority: comfort.
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We map out the day: I have breakfast with her, she has cheer practice, he has a pitching clinic. Awfully busy for a Sunday.
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I never knew this little place existed.
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Two scrambled eggs, four slices of bacon, and potatoes. There is a tiny spoonful of caramelized onions beside the potatoes that are so good I think of asking the kitchen if I can have a whole cup of them.
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I take the long way home just because.
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Hair day.
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I only have five more braids to do but they are hungry.
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Beef stew and Raft 2020 Merlot.
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One step closer.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety
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Quick banana bread from a box. I eat a fresh banana instead.
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I try to make the long stories short. But it’s been so long, there are so many things to explain. We make loose plans for the future knowing that there is still so much up in the air.
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Fog laying low on the horizon. Everything bright and alive.
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Snickers.
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Can I make a gluten-free crust?
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Maybe too many experiments in one day for something that is to be shared.
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Maybe that can be my Christmas gift.
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Turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and salad and bread and green bean casserole and sweet potatoes and apple pie with fresh whipped cream and ice cream.
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Champagne first. Chenin from Anjou. Burgundy from Mercurey. L’envolee. Perlieu.
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“Such kind people.” “I know.”
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Nine
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I am both the adult and the child.
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Thank goodness there is yoga today.
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Something about the thin leafless pines, blackened by fire, and the way they stick out of the mountain top in the fog.
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No chainsaws this morning.
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Baked maple-glazed donut. Masala chai latte. Bright light. Very Instagramable.
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Mostly, on these walks, I remember that I’m not alone.
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Satisfied.
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“What do you do in detention?” “I don’t know. I’ve never had one.”
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What is this feeling? Warm fuzzies? Also nerves. But, maybe, the start of belonging.
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Rethinking.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Eight
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Tired.
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Multiple bottles with just enough cleaner to get the jobs done.
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I look toward the left and confused by the light. I remember that it is just the reflection of the sunrise from the other windows. I look toward the right and watch the sky change colors.
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Pick it up and put it down.
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I remember why I don’t like shopping here anymore.
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The best kind of email I could get.
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One day I will no longer care to act as if I don’t care.
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You can grieve the loss of things you no longer wanted.
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Goal-setting.
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Why is the water still running?
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Seven
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Starters. Subs. Positions. Will they be able to run the offense?
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I finish up my make-up and pull my hair up into a bun and the only thing I can think is “am I sure I really want to do this?”
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I remember her words: “Write down what it is you want and what you don’t want. I watched you manifest your way all the way to California. You can create what you want.”
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I could geek out more over the space, but I’m trying to stay professional.
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This makes me miss wine things.
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“I left more excited than I was when I arrived.”
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Tacos and flautas and a lime Jarrito in the park. The vines behind the fence are a bright yellow. There are still enough leaves on the trees to dapple the sunlight. I can feel a cool breeze coming through my sweater.
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“Do you need anything?” “I need to not throw up.”
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There is only so much we can do now.
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Once the game starts the nerves go away. Time is going so quickly. “You have time-outs,” he says to me from behind the bench. I laugh. I completely forgot about those. It’s okay. First game.
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I think they expect me to be upset with the loss. But I am quite happy. “I don’t think the score reflected their efforts and they are proud of themselves. And that’s the most important thing.”
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I need a ferm board.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Six
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Better today.
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Comfort over everything else.
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The coffee is too close to the top of the cup. I try to take large sips as I round the curb so that it doesn’t spill over the top.
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Now it’s time to get creative.
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She was born on a farm in the midwest. The name that comes up when her social security number is pulled is not exactly the same as the name that’s on these papers. Her husband is in an assisted living facility and can’t remember where he put all the papers. I can hear the panic in her voice. How, exactly, are we all supposed to get Real IDs?
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I tell her I’m excited because I am finally, officially a Californian. “You just got your license today? How long you been there?”
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Rare to stop and talk to two neighbors while walking up and down the mountain.
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But on the bright side, at least there is more time.
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Really, I’m just nervous.
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Tomorrow.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Five
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When will we be able to sleep again?
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Even in the dark, you can see the thick fog filling the valley.
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How is it already time?
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Speak of the Devil.
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“They had the audacity,” I text.
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The things we are saying are the things we really mean to say.
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The energy is off. I am okay with this not happening.
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Nothing good comes from desperation.
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But really the audacity.
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No appetite.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Four
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2am. A man stumbles down the stairs and cannot stand. He is doubled over. I back up slowly down the hallway. He throws up. I back away. He throws up some more. And more. He mumbles something and then starts to eat what he’s thrown up. I run away. A legitimate nightmare.
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I should try to go back to sleep.
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What else for today?
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Slow, slow, slow.
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Filling out the roster and the schedule and everything is starting to feel real and I am feeling nervous.
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Not what I needed.
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Still riding the coaster.
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I keep looking at the clock.
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Family call.
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It’s almost over. But it’s also not.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Three
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How am I going to teach them offense today?
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The fog is still thick. It feels like what I think it feels like in the Pacific Northwest. Cool and dense and moody.
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“Looks like you’re feeding a lot of people.” I wonder if it is just that the size of our family is uncommon in this part of the country. In the midwest, everyone has big families.
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Eight out of ten.
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By golly, I think they’ve got it.
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Nothing speaks to me and so I leave them be.
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Turns out crowded sidewalks still make me nervous.
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Fear and then anger and then fear and then anger and then fear again.
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Forgot to finish vacuuming.
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Great British Baking Show.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-Two
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I try to find my nose ring with my eyes closed.
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Hashbrowns with coffee.
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Why can’t I find the right envelopes?
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Where is everyone?
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I worry that I accidentally topped the wrong barrels but I double-check the list and remember that I only did the ones with the upturned bungs and that means that I should have done everything right. But did I?
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Window screens.
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I sit on the asphalt and stare out over the vineyard. Gold and green and pops of red. Bright light. Gratitude. “Moana” soundtrack in the background.
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Champagne and Model Bakery.
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I realize I need two things this season: pants with pockets to keep me from gesturing and gum to keep me from yelling.
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Why are there already wreaths on the lampposts? The flags from Veteran’s Day are still up.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty-One
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Early, but not as early.
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Cold feet. Where are my slippers?
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Burnt bacon. That seems about right for a week like this one.
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Graduated to the parking lot.
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I end up saying a lot more than I meant to say, but it was a lot of truth, and that was necessary for explaining the whole thing.
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Tasting Malbec from the keg and this is when I get wine on the sweater.
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A little panicked.
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We stand by the doors and watch him play with the big kids. The big, big kids. He doesn’t look so small running with the 16- and 17-year olds. “He’ll be here next year, you know,” I say. “I know.” “High school. High school,” I say.
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Just can’t seem to look away.
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“I can’t believe tomorrow is the last day.”
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Eighty
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3:28am.
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Side effects?
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I sit
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I have a good idea where it is, but it’s too dark to go looking for it.
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An attempt, at least.
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Wet leaves on the sidewalk. Yellow and brown and red. There is no sunshine here yet.
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Her face contorts itself as we relay the story and it’s her reaction that is validating.
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Will just haunt them instead.
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“I’m not going to cry at work,” I say to myself as I walk up the drive.
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There is still so much for them to learn.
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Not hungry, but hungry.
Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventy-Nine
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I already know before I look at the clock.
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My mind runs through all of the things.
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Found the hashbrowns.
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Salad and soup. Gluten-free Tate’s chocolate chip cookies. A cup of decaf coffee.
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I sit on a bucket and scrub down the ladder. My mind drifts to things I’d rather not think about. But scrubbing is the best thing I could be doing.
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The stab of uncertainty.
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Tomorrow.
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What if there is nothing that can be done?
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Running helps, too.
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They have a Christmas tree up. I’m not mad about it.