The sound of the sprinklers. I remember this from last year: waking up to that sfpppeee of water shooting out of the hole from the drip irrigation.

He’s up which means I can get up without feeling guilty about disturbing him.

I should probably stop sending emails at 6:30 in the morning.

Maybe we can do it.

They look like they’re racing. One, a very tiny one, creeping slowly over the hose.

In every conversation, so many synchronicities. Which means maybe it’s not just me. And that feels good.

We talk for 3.5 hours. We just have a hard time keeping it short and sweet. But we are not shallow women.

I need a break.

“Rest in your knowing.”

It’s hot. Very hot. I can feel it radiating through the umbrella.

I miss them. I remind myself to just keep holding the vision. It’s all possible.