Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-Nine
Morning air.
No coffee. No coffee. No coffee.
Thirteen years old. Two teenagers in the house.
We drive up to Calistoga, through the fog, up the windy road, to go to her favorite bakery. Vanilla iced chai latte, three macarons, a spinach and feta croissant.
Always learning something new.
I really must finish this.
Surprised? Not really. Usually, how one thing starts is how it will end.
I try to use my hot spot in the gym to catch up on work before the game begins but nothing is working. I take it as a sign.
It continues.
After she opens her presents we watch a video from when she was 3 years old, on her birthday, opening presents. Pinky Pie pony and Hello Kitty. Things have changed.