Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty-Five

1. I wake up and remember that it’s the last morning. How is this already the end?

2. I catch her coming back up from her car and I take my coffee into their cabin to chat. The sunlight illuminates the room. Rumpled sheets, pillows askew, glowing wood.

3. I remind myself to eat the banana before I drink the coffee.

4. I think of the words that need to be written and wonder when I will find space for them. When will there be space for anything? Last night I asked them that I needed space for processing and clarity on how to let more of myself out. I still hold too much in.

5. Time for the good-byes to begin.

6. I watch the two of them walk down the ramp, hand in hand, framed by an archway of green vines. Tear start again in my eyes. I turn back to her and hug her and then fall apart. I can’t remember the last time I cried so hard that snot fell from my nose.

7. We sweep and vacuum and load the car. I will miss this place.

8. Linen overalls, yes please.

9. We head to Compline. Burgers for the both of us. Rosé for her and Pax Syrah for me. Duck fat fries. She says they are like pillows in the mouth.

10. The ride home alone is so quiet. How can things ever be the same?

Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty-Four

1. Gotta stop drinking coffee so late at night.

2. It’s my favorite part of the day, delivering little envelopes filled with beauty.

3. Two tiny apples and water before coffee. I decide to stay in the cabin and watch the sun rise through the window.

4. My biggest worry is that I’ve looked and felt too distracted this week. That even though I tried really hard to be present that there were moments where I just really wasn’t.

5. It might just be an unhealthy coping mechanism. And it’s exhausting.

6. Or maybe I’m just sad that this is all ending and I really don’t want it to. I text him to tell him that I need the floors swept and vacuumed, that dinner needs to be taken care of, that I need two heads of celery and bags of apples and carrots for juice. Oh, and for there to at least be breakfast for Monday morning already available.

7. I will miss the quiet of this place. I will miss the weird acoustics of the round room, the way whispers seem to travel across the space. I will miss these hills. I will miss their laughter. I will miss feeling seen and heard and held.

8. That name will never not elicit a visceral response even with all the time that’s passed.

9. In the pouch are the brass hoops.

10. But I don’t want to go.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty-Three

1. Much better.

2. So steep.

3. Where are the bananas? They were overripe but I could really use one before I drink coffee.

4. I walk up behind the cabins to watch a little bit of the sunrise and 10 turkeys cross the labyrinth in front of me. Charting serendipity.

5. The thing about the labyrinth is that it doesn’t matter where you start; you always end up in the same place. A metaphor for life.

6. Apparently all the Ubers and Lyfts are coming here. It’s worth the hassle.

7. It’s all a process in learning.

8. That feeling like you’re saying too much and yet also not enough.

9. It didn’t make me feel that much better.

10. Where are my words?

Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty

1. Really? 5 am?

2. I move as quietly as I can through the kitchen, set out all the ingredients for breakfast: a plate of tomatoes and some feta, a few slices of bread for toast, bacon, celery for juice.

3. I make a list of what needs to be done. There’s a lot but not too much. I feel like I am forgetting about something.

4. One day she will be able to come with me. Maybe in another year or two.

5. So much sun.

6. Stuffed to the gills.

7. It’s an easy drive. No traffic at all heading this direction. I tell her that even though I have some hesitations about moving up this way, it is so pretty and I do love pretty.

8. ”You ladies have been walking back and forth on this sidewalk so many times!” “We have a lot of stuff to do!”

9. Soy glazed pork belly, watermelon, and frisbee salad. Fettuccine carbonara with a Hanzell Sebella Pinot Noir. Trio of dessert wines: Sauternes, Ben Ryé, Tokaji.

10. This is my happy place: here, with her, doing this.

11. He sends me a text: May not seem like it but I’m very proud of the experience you’ve created for these people. That’s all I needed to hear.

Ten.Three Hundred & Four

1. 2 a.m.

2. The three men in blues get on the air tran with the other woman and myself and then get off at the next stop. I didn't get a chance to extend eye contact and a "thank you." 

3. Humans in airports are an interesting phenomenon. 

4. The sun is beginning to rise and sky is stacked with deep purples and oranges, lush and moody, a fever dream in itself. 

5. I want to go to sleep but every time I close my eyes a face appears and they begin to talk to me and it's so disruptive so I keep my eyes open. 

6. Mildred Pierce. 

7. I close my eyes in between questions and answers. 

8. I'm grateful for the warmth. It's easing the return. 

9. There will be words and probably tears at some time in the future. So much to feel, too much to feel all at once. 

10. I go ahead and clean the kitchen even though I said I wouldn't. The ranunculus dried out while I was away. They remind me of our time together this weekend. Of how I wanted to cover everything with papery petals. Of how what I really mean is to be my natural self.