Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Fifty-Seven
The morning arrived so quickly.
We are there, on time, and it feels a little bit like a miracle.
Opening day. Bright, clear morning. Energy. Two kids walk toward the home plate and sit to play the cello.
She mentions anticipatory sadness, and I know that feeling far too frequently.
She puts on 90s rap playlist. Songs I haven’t heard in a decade or more, and yet the lyrics are still embedded in my brain.
I think about how familiar this road is to me now. With the familiar, there is no fear.
A la Heart Cafe. Ceaser salad with chicken. Black cherry kombucha. Three cookbooks. I blame it on the sun.
The girls want to see on playing. I want to keep the light on my face.
Just calm down.
Maybe it is time for a break. Time to rest and repair. Acknowledge the loss and approach it with care.
