It feels like Friday, not like Tuesday. This is going to feel like a long week.

I find the tiniest one. It is active, reaching up and over the blades of grass to find the right path.

Cool air.

English muffin with butter and the plum jam. Perfection. I am quite proud of myself.

I double check to make sure that I am not missing anything important.

Headache. I try to squint it away.

She tells me that I need to water it. It’s already there, it just needs attention.

I realize that I haven’t really had a break from work since October. What, exactly, am I waiting for?

I am out of breath from dodging behind corners. She sees me laughing. “It’s good to be a kid,” she says. 10-year-old wisdom.

I can tell it was worth it.