I will try not to wish my life away by wanting to be somewhere other than I am right now in this moment.

Hard-boiled egg. But I’m missing the Piment d’Ville.

Feeling like everything needs to just be burned to the ground.

I can’t see her but hearing her voice is enough. I check the countdown clock: 2 months and 14 days. She says her stomach just did a flop. It’s soon. It’s coming so soon.

I order more supplies, secure our hotel for the night before we all arrive to the ranch, message someone about a camp burner. All of it coming together. This is the kind of work I want to build upon.

How do I continue to grow?

I shoot off a text. I realize that I am in a whiny mood. I am ready for this mood to be gone.

Too close.

I tell him that I feel stuck. No growth. No movement.

“But at we’re here. We’re here. It can’t go perfectly all the time. There will be times like this but we’re here.” I look up at the setting sun and watch the rose vine sway. There is new growth on the palm, healthy and green. And yes, we are here.