Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Ninety-Nine
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Juneteenth.
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Make the coffee, but don’t drink it. Day four of no caffeine.
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Make a mental list of everything that must be done today. There is not a lot, but enough.
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At the very last minute, I decide to take a sick day. A mental health day. I need another day completely disconnected.
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Morning pages.
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We drop them off at swim and then take a short drive into town. It is still quiet and traffic moves slow. I add a hibiscus donut.
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I take the cookbook out to the deck to read but I end up laying down and falling asleep until the sun breaks through the trees and causes me to sweat.
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But how will I do it differently? What must I be willing to accept?
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Three-hour nap.
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We spot him in the grocery store. “The thing about being a small town,” I say, “is that it’s hard to hide.”
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He says something about sitting on top of a shed, listening to music, and looking at the stars. We are more alike than he realizes.