In the dream, I am exposed but comfortable. Aware, but free.

The rumble of the neighbor’s truck as an aural cue.

A head full of ideas in a world with not enough time.

The desk is here. Now it’s beginning to feel like a real office.

A perfect 1-hour lunch at Himalya Sherpa Kitchen outside, slightly cold in the shade. Chicken tikka masala, garlic prawns, lemonade instead of Navarro Guwerztraminer because I’m still on the clock. Running into a friend who joins in.

Taking advantage of this pause before the next flurry of chaos arrives.

Once you accept it for what it is, you can’t not see. So what do you do with what is in front of you? You embrace it, or reject it. But either way, some action must occur.

Pump the brakes.

She takes two dribbles in and shoots. She makes her first basket. Finally.

Just the two of us at the table eating dinner and talking. Talking about football this year and being on varsity next year. Worried about not having time to get back into basketball before the season begins.

I walk into his room, he takes one ear bud out of his ear, gives me a thumbs-up sign, and smiles. He did, in fact clean his room. I really like this version of him.