Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Nine
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I remind myself that if I can hear myself having a conversation in my head, then I am awake.
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No coffee. I check the front door to see if maybe we missed the delivery by accident. Nothing.
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We drive down to The Station. I cave and get myself a ham and cheese croissant.
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I am running out of time.
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The way the earth and air look and smell after the rain.
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I thank them, tell them that these are the best weeks I’ve had in a long time.
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Virtual retreat kick-off.
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I want to like them more than I do.
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So much warmer when you’re closer to the fire. I will need to buy a thick sheepskin to rest on.
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I need to send thirty pages of my writing and “To Reach Japan,” by Alice Munro. Thirty pages. That’s just six long forms. I can do that.
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I keep trying to turn the handle but it’s gone as far as it can possibly go.