Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty
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Slow to rise.
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Bagel run in skirt and sneakers. As I check out we talk about looking forward to summer. Her youngest graduates from high school this year. She can’t wait to relax.
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I left the gluten-free donut in the car.
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As I prepare to leave, he asks me when was the last time I saw my primary care physician. He says my blood pressure is a little high. I look down at the paper. The numbers mean nothing to me. But I blame it on coffee and anxiety.
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It actually feels good to work in this space today. At least there is a little bit of energy here.
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Too fast.
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It’s always this 3 o’clock call where I am the most self-conscious about the need to do motherly things while also working.
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“I thought all cats land on their feet?”
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There’s always at least one. And it will be one by one that things here change. I can deal with that.
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A loss, but not a bad one considering.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Nine
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Another frost fan morning.
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A thin layer of fog slowly rising up from the little valley floor below. The sun will be bright today.
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Someone really needs to go to the grocery store.
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The sky is blue and bright and looks like it always does after it rains: clear and open, cloudless.
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Quick meetings are the best meetings.
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Overthinking this?
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I tell her that parties aren’t my thing. Small intimate dinners. Six to eight people. “And we’re sitting down.” I realize that I don’t sound like much fun.
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He says something about the pictures. I tell him its a numbers game for me - shoot as much as you can and cross your fingers that something turns out.
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How much is too much? Is the request unreasonable? Am I doing what I can to support?
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Down 0-3 in the top of the 7th. Three runs score in the bottom. Extra innings. No runs by the opposing team in the top of the 8th. Two runners on base. Base hit to bring the fourth run home. Saints win. Crowd wild.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Eight
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The hum of the frost machine.
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A little later than I’d like, but still on time.
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Sometimes the internet is good for a laugh.
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I listen and process and wonder if I am the only one thinking about these things.
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There is an intentionality behind the ask.
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But what is the goal?
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The sun is so bright that the light reflecting off of the paper is blinding. Then darkness. Then rain.
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The thunder is so loud it makes me jump. I throw everything into the backseat of the car just in case nothing is canceled.
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The back windshield is covered in large chunks of ice. The street is white. “It’s almost like Chicago,” I say as he enters the car. He asks me if I heard the thunder. “When was the last time you heard thunder? Years, right? Years!”
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Still so much laundry.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Seven
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Up before the alarm. Feels like a punishment.
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Should I leave and get milk? I scour the pantry for what I can cobble together to make a breakfast. Only eggs, no bacon. Three pieces of toast, but two are the ends and no one will eat those. Six packets of instant oatmeal - sugar and spice - the kind no one likes.
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He wakes up and asks me to go to the store.
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Big red-tailed hawk flies up and sits on the line as I cross the bridge. I take it as a sign.
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Insight. Power. Truth. Vision.
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Cold, but doable. Maybe ate too much?
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Over and over again.
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What is my responsibility in this?
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2019 Olivia Brion Tempranillo. Burgers with gouda and candied bacon.
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I should have just let them have the milkshake.
Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifty-Six
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Do I want to get out of bed? No. Yes.
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His friend comes over to the table to chat. “You might want to take that ear pod out and socialize,” he says to the oldest before walking away.
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First time I didn’t finish a Belgian waffle.
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She brings me a card and chocolates, too.
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Three cards: Black Panter, Prairie Dog (contrary), Bear. Embrace the unknown. Retreat. Introspection.
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It’s raining?
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I sit down in the spa reception and it starts to fill with women. Oh yeah, it’s Mother’s Day. The aesthetician asks me if this was my gift. I laugh. “I actually booked this not even realizing it was Mother’s Day. It was just the first appointment that worked for my schedule.”
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Insights.
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Sometimes, when you don’t know what to do, you go back to the old things you know.
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They will not let go of the milshake.
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?