It’s going to be hot today.

I open and close my mouth to get the jaw back in place. Maybe one day this will no longer be a thing.

He’s right. Lately, it’s been so much quieter.

I trace the ceiling with my hands and my eyes, lean so far back that I am blinded by the sun. I smile.

Maybe he is right. Maybe I am looking for the problems because I think I should be afraid. I think it shouldn’t work.

If it wasn’t right, I wouldn’t still be thinking about it.

Slow down.

Why am I giving this so much energy?

Summer heat. BLTs and melon and artichokes and potato salad and wine. And the mixture of gratitude and sadness.

What’s next?