Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-Three
Cool, gray Monday morning.
Real talk. At least, it’s an attempt at real talk.
I start to think about crawling back into my bed with my coffee and my computer, but I know I must go.
They are having fun, but it’s loud.
I find my way all the way down to the end of the road. Ah, that’s where that is. I wonder who owns that. Another road; I’ll walk that one next time.
My to-do list is almost done.
I did not expect that today. But it doesn’t matter. This is all practice, anyway. Everything is a practice.
Everything is a practice.
It’s all starting to feel normal again.
It will be here before we know it.