5:15 am. Is it weird to wish I’d had woken up at 4 am instead? I need the dark and the quiet.

Turtleneck weather is the best weather.

He wants a waffle. Of course.

They haven’t gotten the Acme bread delivery yet.

He compliments me on my hair. I compliment him on his hair. It is just past his shoulders and his black ringlets look soft and bouncy. We’re all having a good hair day.

Helpful.

I write a note to myself: What is the real cost of this class? How do I keep taking it? There is so much to write and this is exactly what I need to pull it out of me.

“How many books can I get?” “As many as you want.” I find a few cookbooks and “Kindred” by Octavia Butler.

The name looks familiar. I think maybe she’s a neighbor, but it’s hard to tell with masks on.

This tiny little town and its city council full of white people doing the work of hiring a diversity, equity, and inclusion organization to help them do better. This tiny town and its Latinx community sharing honest experiences. This tiny town and its mayor inviting the director of the Suscol Inter-tribal Council to share with us her work and to educate us on the history and healing still required. This tiny town and the mayor welcoming our young family. This tiny town and the people who choose to decide that this matters.

The right choice.