It’s time.

Dark skies and bird song.

I take one of the loaves out of the refrigerator and then slice up some strawberries. Honey-cinnamon butter. I remember the days when this used to be all that I needed to do. When my mornings could be slow and simple.

He rarely calls me this early in the morning. He’s checking to make sure I’m okay. He’s noticed that I haven’t posted anything in my Instagram stories in a few days. I chuckle. “Sometimes I just need a break,” I say. Then I ask him about his COVID test; it’s negative which is reassuring. It means the surgery will happen tomorrow as planned.

Still no sun.

Her interview with Melissa Alexander makes me teary-eyed. I want to be mad at the questions she asked but I can’t be. Because that’s what makes the conversation so tender.

I read the email. I did request feedback. I can’t be scared of it. And, it turns out, there was nothing to be scared of.

I speak low and slow. Like honey. They are hanging on to every word and I am not saying anything they actually want to hear. But they are listening.

Just a little bit of sun makes a difference.

I really, really need to meditate more.