Oh, right. Biscuits.

Gray light. Coffee percolating.

There is something about this that feels chaotic and almost too open.

I know I’m wearing my emotion on my face. I hope no one is taking it too personal.

Us on Skype. I hear myself mispronouncing words and it’s driving me crazy. It doesn’t really matter with them. I muddle my way through. I miss them. I miss those Tuesdays.

I should be doing other things not standing at the counter scrolling through Instagram and eating leftover Mongolian Beef. But right now this is about all I can do.

He gets into the car. I start to drive away. “What about Nora?!” We laugh. “I’m so used to just picking up one kid for the first stop. I forgot about Nora!” We laugh again as we exit the parking lot and then get right back in the loop again.

What is it about pirate booty that makes it irresistible?

Leftover chicken parmesan and Chianti.

We decide that we’ll do a day of Golden Gate, Muir Woods, and Stinson Beach. I can already taste the burger with bacon and avocado, the vanilla milkshake. I can feel the thin sand and the sharp edge of sea shells. I can smell the salt in the air. Three more weeks.