Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fourteen

1. So dark. 5:42 am.

2. Waiting for the light to come. Do I even want to see?

3. No coffee.

4. I can see rubble through the trees. Browned trees. He tells me about what he saw on the drive back up the hill. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see.

5. We finish moving him into the other room. Build the desks. Not what I envisioned, but it will do for now. I’ll move things around later.

6. He keeps asking if he’s going to school.

7. Laundry and laundry and more laundry.

8. “It was really close,” she says. We stand at her window and look across to see the large chunks of concrete.

9. Make soup, then nap.

10. I should stop thinking about the worst outcome and pray for the best one instead.