It feels like a waste to be up here and to only eat breakfast. But I didn’t plan this very well.

Morning fog. I can the little droplets of mist in the air. It looks like fall.

Sometimes it’s just too hard to capture.

“This is a cute place,” she says. And I have to agree. But I sense a lack of diversity and that makes me sad. But it is a place I could see myself living. I could see myself walking these streets.

I unload my bag onto the bed and start to lay down but think of all that’s left to do. Instead of bemoaning the list I ask myself, “what can I do today to make sure that I have a week that is full of ease?” And so I get up and grab the cookbooks, print out a grocery list and a meal plan and get to work.

Two squirrels darting in and out of the trees and under the cars. Must be looking for food.

But I really do hate shopping.

A broken dishwasher and a clogged sink. The piles of dishes stacked on the counter make me feel anxious. I do what I can and clean the bathroom instead.

This will have to do.

He still lets me hug him,. I think of the mom I saw with hangers in her hands, her son in front of her, a tower. I am not mourning the loss of his youth as much as I am in awe of the passage of time, the transformation.