Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Three
Five feels too long. Maybe we start with 3.
Sunshine.
My voice is back but so is the headache.
Sometimes the best response is no response.
More waiting.
A sunny spot against the window. Evan. Cassy. I will try to remember their names next time.
2019 POE Pinot Munier.
You don’t get your time back.
I say to myself that it is nice to be able to relax and watch. But I’m not really relaxed. And I’m analyzing more than watching. Thinking about what I can do differently next season. Dreaming about what it would be like to replicate the same kind of intensity, tension, rawness.
“Experience reveals little about your potential.” - Hidden Potential
Ten.One Thousand & Thirty-Eight
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The sound of the sprinklers. I remember this from last year: waking up to that sfpppeee of water shooting out of the hole from the drip irrigation.
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He’s up which means I can get up without feeling guilty about disturbing him.
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I should probably stop sending emails at 6:30 in the morning.
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Maybe we can do it.
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They look like they’re racing. One, a very tiny one, creeping slowly over the hose.
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In every conversation, so many synchronicities. Which means maybe it’s not just me. And that feels good.
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We talk for 3.5 hours. We just have a hard time keeping it short and sweet. But we are not shallow women.
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I need a break.
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“Rest in your knowing.”
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It’s hot. Very hot. I can feel it radiating through the umbrella.
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I miss them. I remind myself to just keep holding the vision. It’s all possible.