Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Five
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Another no alarm kind of morning.
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Bine broth to start.
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Finding delight in little things like remembering how to clear the pitch count on the scoreboard.
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Only 1pm and there is still so much more left to do in the day.
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These games are hard to watch but good for them to experience.
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Most of my life right now is logistics. Where does everyone need to be and how do I get them there - on time?
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The people who do not give of their time must realize that they are in jeopardy of losing the things they claim to value as want for the community.
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Large crowds in small spaces are hard. I am not a party person.
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But this fits.
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A long, long day.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Four
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Water first.
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The sky is still a little gray and everything feels damp. It smells like rain.
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One has a dance, the other practice, the other just wants to play with friends.
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A long list of small things.
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Schubert Swan Song D.957
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Historiette No. 5
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If this is true, then that is amazing - for everyone.
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Pretty certain I can’t talk anyone into a sabbatical so I can work another harvest.
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Fried olives and pistachios. Lavender Fields Forever.
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The tables are filled with children still a little giddy from the dance. One table of moms half-watching, half-listening, but mostly eating and drinking wine and telling stories.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Three
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Snooze.
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The birds are loud this morning. So much to say.
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I forgot they would be in here. So much for getting that done before the call.
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Three things. Only three things.
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So everyone seems to be struggling in their own way, feeling like they’re failures when the reality is that they are not yet supported in the ways they need to be in order to succeed.
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Better to ask forgiveness than permission?
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I know that sound. I walk over to the window and see a little finch on the deck, its head is ticking like a stuck sprinkler head.
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Where is the sun?
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She is awfully loud. Maybe this is her only child and that is why she is so excited. No. No. She’s just loud. Very loud. The woman in front of me turns around and says, “Who is her child? Surely he must be embarrassed?”
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I watch her walk into the bathroom with the glass of wine in her hand. Oh, no. I follow her in and hope to see the glass on the bathroom counter. It is not. Oh, no. I exit the stall and she is walking out with the wine in her hand. And we wonder why there is Covid.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Two
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Just gonna have to roll the dice on this today.
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Out of the door on time.
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She asks me if I want one more cup. I do, but I shouldn't.
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It’s been too long since I’ve sat here. I had forgotten about all of the light and the view of the hillside and the quiet.
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Peanut butter and jelly at the park. The perfect temperature in the shade. I finish typing and close the computer. I should break the habit of eating while working.
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Sun.
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Sometimes I am doing something very normal and then I will remember.
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5%?
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A new face.
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Drink more water.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-One
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Are they extra loud today?
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I hear his heavy feet make their way to the stairs. So much better when I don’t actually have to wake them up.
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The warm glow of the rising sun.
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Feeling behind today.
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It’s better when there’s good news.
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Gratitudes.
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Should have skipped the shake.
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“Yes and no,” I say. “Sorry for being cryptic.”
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What ar the problems that need to be solved.
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Now all of them know. She is the least happy to hear the news.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty
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In the dream, the father doesn’t want to see the baby. And my grandfather is alive. And nothing is making sense to me.
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I can hear the wind blowing through the trees. It’s almost like the roar of rushing water.
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Back to the grind. I hope I can make it through the day.
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I can tell they don’t like my answer, but the answer is an honest one and the right one and as long as I am confident about that, I am fine.
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Finally, a fob. Now for a keychain.
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But really, the weather couldn’t be more perfect.
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“This golf cart thing is kind of fun.”
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A hard decision but the most right one. A little bit more ease.
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I tell him that this place is just so peaceful and I need to be in a place that still offers that sense of peace.
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“I’m also glad that we got to give this single mom a night away from kids and a massage in a beautiful place. I’m glad she gets to experience this.”
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Nine
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In the dream, the baby is dying.
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Should not have had all of that dairy in one day.
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Whatever is clean and comfortable.
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Never not working.
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I take the New York Times and my lunch and sit out in the sun. It is bright. I can hear voices in the distance; I do not recognize them. In a little corner under an eave is a nest full of freshly hatched Scrub Jays squawking at their mother.
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Sweating in the sun.
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I tag along just to get out of the house. The weather is too perfect to sit inside all day.
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A little bit of work that might yield positive results.
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Hopefully, we haven’t caught ourselves in a pickle.
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We are only human.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Eight
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Warm glow of morning light.
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Yoga today. Finally.
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Watching the trees sway in the wind.
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The drive is quiet and so much shorter than I realized it would be.
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I keep moving my chair into the sun, chasing the light and the warmth. A grounder down the third baseline and a pop-out into right field. On the app, we see he’s finally swinging the bat. I guess sometimes he does listen.
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More laundry.
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Trying to make a plan.
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1999 Taken From Granite Cabernet Sauvignon “Soleil”. Good conversation. Laughter. Old R&B playing in the background.
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Crudites, bread, little gems, beef tartare, bbq chicken with black garlic bbq sauce, soft serve with walnut oil.
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Tired. So very tired.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Seven
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Sometimes the extra hour makes a big difference.
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I think of the words she sent me but I still don’t know where to begin. Maybe I need more time.
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Change in plans.
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There is potential here.
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I had forgotten how much I used to enjoy this.
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Still can’t stop thinking about it.
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I glance up at the shelf above my desk and am proud of myself for not turning on the work phone.
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Instability.
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What do I need to do differently?
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Tired.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Seven
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Bird song.
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Coffee before everything.
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Happiness tonic and emails while the sun rises.
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The way the sunlight makes the whole house glow.
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Late.
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I tell her I feel like I’m in some kind of limbo. Like I can see something else for me in the distance but I don’t know how to get there. And I am happy to not be where I was. It is some kind of strange purgatory.
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A clean home.
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She tells me to list my fears.
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Paloma and chips and salsa before the game begins.
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The color of the light as the sun sets. The crescendo of the breeze as it blows through the trees.
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What next?
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Six
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Cool morning air slipping through the slats.
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How much longer can I lay still? Not very.
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A pattern.
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But what is the process?
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I could choose to keep pointing out the problems but life will be easier if I choose the path of least resistance.
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I know what my priorities are.
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Stress eating.
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I already know the answer.
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Perhaps it is not anger so much as disappointment. Perhaps it is needing the mental space to problem solve. Perhaps there are too many assumptions and not enough questions.
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Everyone can’t be right.
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I almost don’t want to write this. But I know I need to. It is time.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Five
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A break from nightmares.
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I drink the last of the orange juice and chase it with a glass of water. No one is awake yet. Just me and the birds, always so loud before the first light.
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Need more coffee.
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He says it’s because I ask so graciously.
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The light reflecting off of the paper is almost blinding.
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Topo Chico and chips and salsa and birria and aguachile and pulpo.
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This is not who I am.
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I finish up emails while we wait for the game to start. It feels good in the sun. There is a slight breeze and chatter from people gathering in the stands.
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That was not who I am.
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The only thing to do is just keep my head down.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Four
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In the dream, we are now trapped in the car. There is water all around us, milky and rising. There is nowhere to go. I am panicking, we cannot find our cars, we are all crying.
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I wake myself up, still awash with a sense of dread.
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Finally, coffee.
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I turn around and look at her. Tank top. No sweater. It’s 41 degrees. Can you even wear straps that thin? “Find something now,” I say, knowing full well the sweater will be off once she gets to school.
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We are ready to conquer the morning. Only 25% of the shoot left to complete.
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I bring him the Wall Street Journal. Tell him that it usually goes in the recycling bin because I never make time to sit and read it. I'm glad to pass it on to him so he can enjoy such a momentous occasion.
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I forgot to give him the covid test. When can I come? I have no idea. I don't know when I can escape, I tell the nurse. I put down the phone and stare out at the tops of the trees. It just is what it is.
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Sweating as we remove the covers. Birds nests falling out of the umbrellas. This is process we will continue to refine.
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We talk about what we think we’d like to be doing in 10 years. “I really don't know, Yoshi. I’m just trying to get to the point where I can live in my little cabin on the coast and farm a little bit and maybe become a potter.” “That is the goal, isn't it?” he confirms.
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More forgetting.
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“Your instincts were right.”
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Three
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Birdsong.
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He says he will miss this place, but I know the next place offers its own kind of sanctuary.
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What am I missing? How can I give it to myself? What expectations need to shift?
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Bacon and waffles and orange juice.
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How are they already awake?
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There is never as much time as you think.
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If I am not going to be at home, at least I am somewhere beautiful and quiet.
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We talk to each other, artist to artist. Think about framing, struggle with the fringe on the blanket, wait patiently for the cheese plate, chase the sun.
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I do seem to get mired down in the details of things. Maybe I would be happier if I didn’t.
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Long, long, day.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Two
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No alarm, but still up before the first light.
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Model Bakery for coffee and a ham and cheese croissant. This one is a day old.
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“The real questions are, what do you treasure? and how much do you treasure it?”
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Writing emails to the thuds of the basketballs hitting the floor.
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Sunny Saturday and softball. Green ridges and blue sky.
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Milkshakes in the afternoon. Vanilla with rainbow sprinkles for me. Cookies and cream for the boys.
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I should stay and do the laundry but pool time sounds like a better way to spend a Saturday.
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Maybe I am more stubborn than I think I am.
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Reframing.
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Where can we simplify?
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-One
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Forgot to give him his Covid test.
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The line is particularly long this morning and then I remember that it's spring and Friday and that equals tourists.
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She doesn't have an agenda for today and she is short with her words. Last night exhausted her.
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Bright, bright light.
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I think I am remembering everything. What would Danielle do?
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I will figure it out.
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Sick. No. Not sick. Just stressed.
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Everyone isn’t capable of doing it, otherwise it would have been done.
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I listen to their conversation, their laughter. Their happiness makes me happy.
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So tired.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty
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Out of coffee. I dig out the Nespresso, fill it with fresh water, and then walk away.
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Frantically trying to move all of the clothes off of the floor and stuffing the laundry room.
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I rub his shoulder to wake him up. The first thing he says to me is, “Can we talk more about the house tonight? Just talk about some plans?”
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I see the text as I walk back into the house. Throw-up. Need stomach medicine.
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I start to talk but I can’t.
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Who said it was supposed to rain?
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It’s just been a very long week. A very long week.
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Still sound like a frog.
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I never did make that Nespresso. Is that why I feel like crying? The lack of caffeine?
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We sit and listen and wait. We text each other in between. We make side-eye glances and roll our eyes. Others speak. I feel the energy shift within my body. We are supported. They are all on our side.
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“10 years from now, 20 years from now, 30 years from now, [the children] who experience racism will remember it for the rest of their lives. The perpetrators will not.”
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Change is slow but it is in motion. That was worth sitting for 2.5 hours on a Thursday night.
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I tell him that I’m so tired that I could cry.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Nine
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So many clothes on the bathroom floor.
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The need for a little drama.
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Sometimes people just need an ear and to feel heard and maybe…what if that was all I did?
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What a gift to work in such a beautiful place.
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I think of the phrase he shares all the time: Never forget what you had to do to get here.
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I tell her that I’m just feeling a little lost this week.
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Chop salad. Risotto with Alaskan Halibut. Pinot Grigio, something Italian that I can’t remember. Apple Crisp and espresso.
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The first thing they do is check out the appliances. I laugh to myself. They note the amount of storage on the door of the refrigerator.
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“Well, he didn’t run out of the house. And I take that as a good sign.”
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So much work that still needs to be done.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Eight
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Strange dreams.
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Grinding beans, pondering the meaning of life, feeling gratitude for the little bit of wisdom I’ve acquired in this life, wanting to go back to sleep.
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Shift in plans.
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Was this the day we were supposed to be in person?
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There are benefits to physically sharing space and yet, I am so much more productive when alone.
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No pressure.
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They both forgot their cleats.
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They joking refer to their sports not being a sport. Nine men and four women. I wonder if it is some kind of inside joke. It’s still not funny.
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The game is now at home. There goes making dinner. I run home and change clothes, grab the big coat, get sandwiches and chips from Sunshine.
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He runs home on a hit. The ball gets to the infield and is in the catcher’s mitt. The catcher reaches out his arm to tag him. He jukes the catcher and taps his foot on the base. I wish I had recorded that one.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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Cold, cold, cold.
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Grateful for a slower start to the morning.
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Too much coffee?
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The changing color of the light as the morning hours pass.
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I remind myself that the only person I can control is myself. Others’ emergencies do not belong to me. I can choose to move slowly, deliberately, without apology. I can set boundaries.
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More potatoes for lunch.
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Going with the flow.
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The gift of more time.
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I show him the email. He reads it the same way I do. “I knew this was going to happen. But you see, it’s so hard for a man to have a woman tell him what to do.”
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Manage expectations.