4:42am. Note to self: Don’t go to bed too early.

Hot lemon water. Homemade granola with dried cranberries and a splash of oat milk.

At the stoplight I tap him on the leg, ask him if he can just try to work on a few things. He agrees.

I’m still all of the things.

The sounds of harvest preparation. Power washers. Forklifts. Delivery trucks. All of the noise slipping through the cracks of the window.

Not as many as I’d hoped but good to see some familiar faces.

“These are grown-up problems,” I say.

I’m still not sold.

I do love getting to know her more and more.

He sounds like I feel.