Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty
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Really? 5 am?
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I move as quietly as I can through the kitchen, set out all the ingredients for breakfast: a plate of tomatoes and some feta, a few slices of bread for toast, bacon, celery for juice.
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I make a list of what needs to be done. There’s a lot but not too much. I feel like I am forgetting about something.
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One day she will be able to come with me. Maybe in another year or two.
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So much sun.
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Stuffed to the gills.
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It’s an easy drive. No traffic at all heading this direction. I tell her that even though I have some hesitations about moving up this way, it is so pretty and I do love pretty.
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”You ladies have been walking back and forth on this sidewalk so many times!” “We have a lot of stuff to do!”
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Soy glazed pork belly, watermelon, and frisbee salad. Fettuccine carbonara with a Hanzell Sebella Pinot Noir. Trio of dessert wines: Sauternes, Ben Ryé, Tokaji.
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This is my happy place: here, with her, doing this.
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He sends me a text: May not seem like it but I’m very proud of the experience you’ve created for these people. That’s all I needed to hear.