A regular clothes day.

She’s already awake? Oh, yeah. Birthday pastries.

Half a blueberry muffin, coffee with oat milk creamer, water, a view. The clacking of my fingers on the keys in between bites and sips.

I think of the worst-case scenario. It is not ideal, but it is doable.

This is not sustainable.

A handful of friends are gathered at the top of the stairs and yell “happy birthday” as she exits the car. Someone has a gift. I am both curious and happy and uncomfortable.

Working in the car gives me headaches now. I look out the window and notice how much thicker the fog is on this side of the range. Sometimes the treetops poke through. Everything is shrouded in a milky haze.

She is now the easiest to shop for.

At the end of the meal, they bring her a toque signed by the kitchen staff.

Decisions need to be made.