Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-Eight

1. After months of waking up at 4:30, 5:30 is beginning to feel too late. Too rushed. I like to have my coffee by 6:30 and this is really pushing it. 

2. I get wet from the sprinkler. This tiny triangular piece of the yard is hard to water. Hopefully my neighbor doesn't mind me getting her driveway wet. 

3. I am still sad about the lost watermelon. 

4. I look for the deer and her baby. I always look in the morning. Last summer we'd meet pre-dawn. Lately she likes to come out in the middle of the afternoon. I think the height of the grasses this year makes her feel more safe. 

5. Prayers. 

6. She reminds me that specificity matters. I had just written it in my journal. I remember so many of my conversations with my Wolf Mom and all of the times she told me to be more specific in my ask. Specificity matters. And there is always refinement. 

7. We take the kid out to lunch because it's just him and it's a good break for the two of us from our work for the day. He's a pleasant guest anyway. 

8. I think of how lucky my husband is. How he probably doesn't have to worry about random violent attacks because of his gender or race. 

9. As we walk through a sea of bodies that do not look like my own, in a town that I am not too familiar with, I think of Nia Wilson and I scan t-shirts and faces for possible signs of threat. This is what we mean by micro-aggressions. This is what they mean when they talk about the gap in lifespan. Worrying about whether or not you'll live through walking down the street to dinner is a shitty feeling. I am never not aware of my gender or my race and how I am never under the illusion of safety. 

10. I fall asleep to them watching Avitar. I think of how I've never seen it and how I don't want to see it. I don't have time for any more of these kinds of stories.