Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Six
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Nine hours.
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I stick the coffee cake in the oven and then slice a leftover dinner roll in half, slather it with butter, and put it on the rack above the coffee cake.
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Neither one of us is a fan of this season but we’ve agreed to bake something this week. Something that will bring delight. Pavlova for her, a tart for me.
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I try to bring my thoughts to the present, to my breath. I try to unclench my jaw and focus. There is never a Friday where I don’t need this time with her.
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I tell him about the dream. I hope it is one of my prophetic ones. It felt so real.
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What will be different?
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Two kids down, one to go.
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She’s cleaning her room and listening to Christmas music. If nothing else, I will do it for her.
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Thanksgiving 2.0.
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“A Charlie Brown Christmas.”