Ten. Eight Hundred & Eighty-One

1. I open the bedroom door, her back is to me. I hear the Nespresso machine and then my heart melts. I tell him I guess I should get back under the covers so she can bring it to me in bed.

2. She’s proud of herself. Sometimes I can’t tell if it’s just her personality or social conditioning, that she’s seen me be the caregiver for so long that it seems like it’s what she’s supposed to do. But then I also know that she’s also just a sweet little girl.

3. I finish the cappuccino with a slice of banana bread and a thick smear of butter.

4. I write the prayer.

5. The sound of wind and rain.

6. I work until the battery dies. It’s always so hard to write about yourself. I talk myself through it. I remind myself that it’s the first one and so it won’t be perfect but it will be done. This is all just a process.

7. I put on Twilight Zone and rub his head until he falls asleep. It doesn’t take too long. I think I’m right behind him.

8. Note to self: stop using my phone number.

9. Navarro Vineyards Pinot Gris.

10. I hear giggles from the back room. I knew this was a bad idea.