Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Ten
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I decide to get ready for the day as if I will test negative.
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Three tests on the counter. One clear. Two of us still showing lines. We’re playing it extra safe. The two of us head back up to the Covid Cave for another day and night.
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I tell him he needs to give me a good 3-4 hours of work and then I can play a game of war.
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It’s taking me longer to finish these small tasks than I would like. Too many distractions.
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We press pause on the game.
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Chicken tenders for lunch.
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Another virtual meeting; I have him put on his headphones and be quiet.
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What I really want to do is go back to sleep.
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I look around and just see the long list of things I had wanted to get done before they arrive and try not to work myself into a panic.
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He finally wins.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Nine
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Up later than usual but still early.
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The golf course is white with frost.
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I get ready as if everything is normal, preparing for the day as if the test will come back negative and I can resume life as normal.
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The line is still there. Of course it is.
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I did forget the pot of soup on the stove.
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I mean, spilling tomato soup on my bed was the risk I was willing to take.
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Taking way too long to write this handful of paragraphs.
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Back to phone calls.
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What needs to leave? What can stay?
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I watch the game from the sofa, with my mask on, scorebook in my hand. Not the way I wanted to start off the season. But this is just one of 26. So close, but so far. But there is potential here.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Eight
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Cool morning breeze.
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A text message with another positive test. Great.
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He really will not let us out of the room.
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I am feeling antsy even though I am still tired. Wanting to do everything and nothing.
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PB & J.
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I tell him there was something else I was going to say but that I can’t remember. He laughs and calls it Covid brain.
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He pulls his chair up to the computer screen for the family call. “Well, so here we are in our Covid cave.” A collective groan.
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We sit on the bed and play Battleship and War. I beat him three times in checkers, though each time is better than the last.
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Just one more night. Hopefully.
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Then again, am I ready to return?
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Six
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How many more mornings of this?
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More soup for breakfast.
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Backache.
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So much time to lay around and think but not enough energy to do anything with those thoughts.
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More soup. More sleep.
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Trying to keep myself still, listening to the warnings not to push myself too hard too quickly.
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Lightheaded.
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I need one more day. Two more days. Three more days. Another two years.
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The feeling of not wanting to return is a reminder that something needs to change.
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Back to sleep.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Five
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The downside to all of this is the messed up sleep cycle.
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More theraflu in bed.
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I try to stay awake for the phone call from the doctor but my eyes keep closing.
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He asks if he can take a test. He’s tired of being stuck in the Covid cave.
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I ask him if he’s shaking the bed. I close my eyes again.
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Still shaking. I reach over to pick up my phone and realize I am the one that is shaking. It’s not the bed. It’s me.
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The protocol versus what feels like the right thing to do.
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Apparently, she made tiramisu.
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More tomato soup and salad.
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Back to sleep.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Four
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4:24am.
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Watery eyes.
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My nose keeps running and my head is hurting. I grab the last test in the house and take it.
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Two emails done. Two lines.
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I wake him up rushing around the house to see if there is one more I can take to double-check. None.
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I have him buy six. The little one has also been coughing and has a runny nose. The two of us, two lines. I tell him that his cold wasn’t a cold. I bet he caught it while in the booth filming the football game.
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A little bit of panic and then a sigh of relief.
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Close my eyes. Just the two of us in our cough cave.
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Soup and salad and green juice delivery.
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Can barely keep my eyes open.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Three
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A little bit of morning light before the sky darkens again with fog.
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The sun looks weird and big and bright as we drive down the trail.
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When it’s just the two of us in the car, he has so much more to say. “Have a nice day,” he says quietly as he closes the door.
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Don’t forget the tacos. Don’t forget the tacos.
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First one in. Print more calendars. Drink hot tea. Answer emails.
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Can’t focus.
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I am disappointed and a little bit shocked, but also not surprised.
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I sit on the gym floor and stretch out my legs and tell the other coach about my day. I ask one of the girls how their day was. She asks me about mine. “I wish I could have switched with you.”
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I have to take a break because they are asking questions faster than I can answer and I have a headache. I send them to go get water while I regroup.
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I’ve got his cold. I know I do. I slide beneath the blankets and close my eyes.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & One
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Oh no.
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Hungry but not sure what to death. Two glasses of juice instead - one orange, one apple. Hot water with lemon. Not the time of the year to be slacking on nutrition.
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So cold.
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Apple and banana and hot tea.
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I know more about workman’s comp than I ever thought I would. Some day, this will be useful information.
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“Remember the episode of ‘The Office’ where they talk about office safety?”
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I can do this, I can do this.
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Never enough.
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Is it really what I want?
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They mention that it’s so quiet. And it is when it’s just the four of us in there. More are coming. I promise.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred
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So lovely to have this light so early in the morning.
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Change of pants.
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Oh yeah. I forgot.
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The more I talk about it, the more nervous I get, and the more I try to talk myself down from the nerves.
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It is always such a waste.
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But before she gets off the call, she ribs me about my fantasy football loss.
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Thunder and lightening. The sound of tiny balls of ice pelting the rooftop. She opens the window just a little and lets in all the sound. We sit at our desks in the quiet, the lights off, a little mesmerized by it all.
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I am early because I want to watch. I want to watch because I want to learn.
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Not enough time.
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Before I let them go, I have us sit and talk, just the five of us. They have more to say than I thought they would.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Nine
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In the dream, I am hiding in a closet and whispering. I am in hiding but I am worried they will not believe me.
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Actual words exchanged.
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Might be the last time I have to scramble to iron his white button-down for a time.
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“Surprise, surprise / Couldn't find it in your eyes / But I'm sure it's written all over my face / Surprise, surprise / Never something I could hide / When I see we made it through another day”
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Is this “quiet quitting”? No. It’s just setting a better boundary for myself.
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At least I have her, though.
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But, then again, there is this.
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Some sense of stability would be nice.
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Last game. One touchdown.
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Almost full moon. Cold breezes. Hot hands in my pockets. The feeling of a light mist hitting my face. It’s finished.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Eight
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In the dream, we win our first game. I double over in disbelief.
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So, so cold.
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Sticking your head in the sand only makes things worse in the end.
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But this sunrise.
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Quickly eat the quiche before the office fills.
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Best if I just keep myself planted here even without the double screens and wireless mouse.
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How do we make this work?
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We start with 4 and end with 2.
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I sit in the gym after they leave and look up at the lights. The work is to move away from a state of self-pity, away from the fear of disappointing anyone, and remembering the core philosophies.
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I reread the plot of Hoosiers on Wikipedia.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Seven
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Coldest morning yet.
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I find it almost humorous how different the responses are to the same question when they are coming from different mouths.
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I am the first one in. Only quiet. I open the window to let in a little bit of fresh air. The vines that run up the hill are changing colors. It is a beautiful view. A beautiful morning.
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I sneak downstairs to have a more private conversation because a conversation must be had.
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I find the comment funny but also incredibly immature.
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If I could just have fewer interruptions in my day.
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I sit on the bench and staple the papers together. How many will there be? I am almost certain I already know my final count.
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Would this materially change the outcome of my season? No. If not, then what is the best decision for the team? How can I make this work?
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Less light but more work.
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I crawl beneath the weighted blanket and tell him that I feel like I’m being taken advantage of.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Six
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Kind of just want to curl back into bed.
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Probably should go ahead and have the coffee.
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I refuse to commit to it without a confirmed resolution.
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I keep talking and talking and my mouth gets drier and drier.
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I have no feelings either way.
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It’s just that there are so many interruptions.
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Today. Let’s see what happens today.
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He wasn’t kidding when he said she didn’t speak any English. We know enough to muddle through introductions. I find one of my players to translate for me. And then I make a mental note to learn a few phrases in Spanish.
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Small but mighty. I can’t really ask for more than that.
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Finally, a real dinner, all together at the table.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Five
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I hear her alarm go off. Good.
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I lose track of time and I haven’t checked in on her. We need to leave in 2 minutes, she is still in her pajamas, digging clothes out of the dryer. We are not even close to being ready.
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The hours are going by fast and I am not sure I am accomplishing anything.
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That did not go as planned.
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More and more yellow on the leaves.
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The thing is that we may talk a lot, but we do solve problems.
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Exactly what I predicted which is still not enough.
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Might be my least favorite day of the year.
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We decide to stay in. There is no need for us to walk around in the cold. Beer and wine and more cornbread.
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Tomorrow.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Four
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That is sleeping in. I need one more day of this.
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It shouldn’t be this hard.
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“If it’s filled with a bunch of 5-year-olds, I’m gonna leave.”
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We stop on the side of the road. He tells us that there’s supposed to be a garage sale here. Here at the house I’ve been oggling for two years.
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A old gravity-fed press in the barn. Quite possibly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
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Giant protractor. An old picking bin. A small wine barrel. Wooden boxes. A set of 8 glasses that match some given to us years and years ago.
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He tells me that it’s already sold. I imagine how it will all be torn down. No respect for the history it holds.
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Shower.
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I intended to do more but I’m too tired.
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Tired and hungry.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Three
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Oh, shoot.
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First fire of the season. The sound and the smell of it.
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He is awfully agreeable this morning and that makes it all pretty easy.
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Last game.
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I keep moving toward the sun to stay warm but the sun is setting and there is no way to escape the chill.
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Turns out, if you call him and he answers he will usually do what you say. They get bold when the communication is via text.
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She stops to take a picture of the moon as we make our way back toward the car. The sky is pink and tan and powder blue and soft. Hazy from a prescribed burn on the other side of the mountains.
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Hot chili. Forgot the sugar in the cornbread.
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But really, who has a birthday party that goes this late into the night?
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Turning off the alarms.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Two
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Not how the day was supposed to go.
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“But here we are.”
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The tender colors of this morning’s sunrise.
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I drive up to the cafeteria, fill up three to-go cups - two with coffee and one half-full of oat milk.
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Cold.
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We really do talk a lot. It’s probably best that she doesn’t live here otherwise we’d never get anything done.
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Everything they are saying is everything I knew they would say and have already said. What is the compromise? How do we get to where we need to be with a sense of ease?
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Yes. I think this is going to be okay.
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The last home game of the year. The coldest game of the year. I will be happy to have my Friday nights back, but I will miss it.
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Proud.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-One
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Probably should keep the windows closed now.
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Leftover soup for breakfast. Hot lemon water.
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This morning’s sunrise and the softness of the sky and the way the leaves on the vines are changing.
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This meeting is never going to end.
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We made it happen. An escape.
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Bread and butter. Little gems with miso Ceasar dressing and shrimp. Chicken wings. Soft serve with pecan oil.
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Sometimes it’s just about having compassion. But it doesn’t excuse the behavior.
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I had fun. If this was the team, I’d be happy. Not ideal, but still happy. Good energy.
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Sometimes you just can’t capture it in a camera and so just soak it all in - all of the colors and the shapes on the horizon.
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I’ll believe it when I see it.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety
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Ready for mornings with the fireplace aglow.
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Bats.
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Thanksgiving is creeping up, which means Christmas is, too. I am not ready.
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Early. Just me and the quiet. Dark offices. Spilling my half-oat-milk-half-coffee all over my desk. Clickity clack of the keyboard.
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Soft.
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I want it to be better.
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Dare I say what is missing is feminine leadership?
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Window-down weather.
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I count eight today. I will be missing two or three tomorrow. Eight is not enough.
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She says more words to me in those five minutes than I heard all last season and I am shocked. Pleasantly surprised. Maybe everything will be okay afterall.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Nine
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I don’t think I could wake up any earlier than I already am. But I need to wake up earlier than I already am.
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The half-oat milk, half-coffee seems to be doing the trick.
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His cart is still wet and a little dirty. He slides across the entire seat to dry it with his pants. A true gentleman.
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I am sad that I can’t go, but I also need this time alone to do real work.
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“…how come you didn’t tell me?” “I don’t know.”
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The sound of gravel crunching underneath my feet. Little gray lizards scurrying between the rocks. The courts are empty and quiet.
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Sometimes, when you don’t care, you feel a little more free.
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I am excited for her.
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Fewer than yesterday but keeping the faith.
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He’s feeling proud.