It feels warmer in here than I want it to.

The birds are the loudest before the first light of day. Their loud songs remind me of mornings on the ranch.

Celery juice. Fresh apple and carrot and ginger. That feeling you get when you feel like you just need to start everything over. Erase everything. Begin again.

Coffe on the chaise, no children.

Will they touch?

Her in her hat. Her voice. Her laugh. I thought this was going to be the year I got to sit with her in her garden.

Bike ride for recess. They’re mowing down the grass at the park. Thank goodness. Maybe next week we can have a baseball unit for recess.

I just can’t imagine how anyone will be able to go to school by late July. I wonder about his reasons for saying that. But I assume it must come back to money. And, if people have to go back to work, school is, in a way, a form of childcare.

What would it look like for us to maintain the aspects of quarantine life that nourish us?

The light is just too good.