Ten.Eighty-Seven

1. Still a little foggy.  

2. He's up early and makes the coffee. I always underestimate how loved I feel when someone else makes the coffee.

3. The tomatoes are continuing to ripen and grow. I will need to harvest the herbs before the temperatures dip.  

4. The house feels like a blank slate. Too blank. And all the whiteness feels overwhelming.  

5. I choose a little bistro table that overlooks the river, write my morning pages, and drink pressed juice, and this surprisingly tasty bacon jam on while grain toast.

6. We talk about feminist business structures, married life, new visions for gathering and growing.  

7. I forget how much inspiration I get from these kinds of connections.

8. I write the words on failure and have him read them and hope that she likes them too.   

9. Symposio. A red blend from Sicily.  

10. I get a peek at the moon before I close the blinds, a thick white crescent in the blue-black sky.