Still no power.

I lean the flashlight against the mirror to bounce the light around the bathroom. It’s enough to get me ready. Smart move to lay out all the clothes the night before so I wouldn’t have to search in the dark.

The hum of generators.

I plug the toaster into one of the surge protectors and find a stick of softened butter on the counter. No clean plates so I lay out the sliced bagels on the last cleanish napkin.

There is ash on the hood of the car.

“Is there power in town?” “I don’t know. Probably.” “If we buy a house, can it not be further up the mountain? Can it be in town? I don’t like having to do this.”

Pinot noir grapes up close. I miss learning about wine.

She reminds me that I can’t control what happens anyway. What is the worst-case scenario? Probably something I can handle. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” she says. “You’ll find a way to navigate this. You already are.”

“This is the second time I’ve been left at school.”

We talk about empathy. How did we come to have it. Why don’t others have it. What are the conditions required to develop it. “I’m going to get a little spiritual and say it has something to do with being an old soul. We’ve been here enough times to understand and know.”

Can’t find my wallet.

Beef tacos. Gringo tacos, he calls them.

Nicolas Feuillatte Reserve Exclusive Brut while the sun sets. Because it’s a Wednesday and there are tiny but good things happening. We can see the light at the end.