Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Thirty
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In the dream, she sends an email saying that everything is canceled.
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Coffee. And leftover macaroni and cheese.
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Canceled flight. The gift of extra time.
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Foggy brain trying to create.
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I get in the shower and wash my hair, tugging at clumps of curls, thinking about the validity of my fears.
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Resources.
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While the pound cake bakes, I sit back down and pour over the emails and make notes. I feel my chest tighten and get that fluttering feeling at the base of my throat and try to talk the anxiety back down.
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I tell him that Iām just ready for it to be over.
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I make a list of gratitudes.
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Several rousing games of UNO. Even the 14-year-old plays.