Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Six
The soft light of morning breaking through the trees.
Trying to listen for footsteps. Who is awake?
Decaf in the French press.
Unpacking the snack delivery.
She calls me to check in. I hadn’t called her yet like I usually do. I love that we have that routine…that when we break it, it feels unnatural.
No construction.
I doubt I will see them today. It’s laughable, really.
“Taking it one day at a time.”
This is not sustainable.
It is later than usual, and the sun is beginning to set. Pink clouds and soft skies. Silhouettes of hillsides and mountain tops. Look at all the beauty.
