Ten.Eighty-Six

1. They keep coming into my room to ask me what's for breakfast. I sigh and say that I don't know. I've slept too late to make an apple crisp and so he offers to get bagels. 

2. I stay in my pajamas a for a few more hours because it is Sunday and because, maybe, I'm still feeling thick-headed from that night time mucinex.

3. I can breathe through both nostrils.  

4. I take my coffee and my journal out to the front stoop and sit in the chair that is still mostly in the shade. I hear the sounds of garage doors going up and down, the steady hum of cars on Wolf's Crossing. There are no clouds in the sky.  

5. Out back I watch a tiny yellow butterfly dance from one end of the yard to the other and then back again.  

6.  "Your job isn’t to know the how, it’s to know the what and to be open to discovering, and receiving, the how."

7. I do a little writing about fear and then cook the bacon for BLTs.  

8. I think about all the things I've wanted to do but have been too scared to do. I think about how I can take tiny punches at fear. I think about how much of his practicality and dogged determination I actually do need in order to keep closing the gap between reality and dream.  

9. Gougenheim Pinot Noir and roasted chicken.  

10. The way the sun is setting behind the clouds today is unreal. You can see the rays beaming out from behind them. There is purple and orange and pink and yellow. It's as if there's a ring of white fire behind the big cloud hanging above the treeline. When we set out to look for a home, not once did I ever think of my sky view. But these sunrises and these sunsets? Forever grateful.