Still dark. Still tired. Why am I awake?

Blue-gray light of morning.

Coffee. I’m not hungry, but if I want to drink this coffee, I need to eat something.

This Gala apple tastes sweet.

Her face. Seeing her face is so good on this Sunday morning. Yes, more of this, please.

I write it all out, give myself a pep talk. I still feel the anxiety. What else can I do to put myself at ease?

My bike tires are a little flat but I keep going. It’s already so hot; it’s just now 10am. The scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. I miss doing this. Yes, more of this please.

Wash day for her. Tears, but not as many as usual.

“You’re afraid of making mistakes, aren’t you?” “Yes.”

I think it’s just the sense of privacy and the quiet. I think we can make it work. I just. I can see it.