Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Nine
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Quiet and dark.
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A list of gratitudes before I get out of bed.
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Talking my mind out of the anxiety and into positivity.
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What you focus on expands.
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The last minute request throws me off. It’s not the request itself but the way in which it was hurled upon me when I already had a plan for the day.
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I hear the words but I don’t believe them. I don’t get fooled by them anymore.
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I should stop this.
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The wind is still whipping but at least the sun is out.
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He was just trying to compliment me.
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It’s just been a long day.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Eight
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4:42am.
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Can of cinnamon rolls. Burned bacon.
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Could it be? Him? At the door? Waiting for us?
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A morning self-portrait. Mentally preparing myself for the day and whatever it will bring.
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Every moment is a chance to turn it all around.
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We take a giant pad of paper and divide it into squares. I ask questions. They answer. I write.
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I feel like I am making him nervous. I don’t want him to be nervous - but I do want him to be focused. And timely.
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I did not expect that to come out of her mouth.
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Mostly worried about these cocktails flying off the table. These gusts of wind are putting everyone on edge.
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Dreaming as a collective.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Seven
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Turning off the alarm.
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I turn on the work phone just long enough to read the reports from the night before, but I avoid the rest of the inbox and turn it back off.
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It’s been some time since I made a trip down the trail to run errands. I marvel at the landscape and how the mountains seem to go on forever and ever. And at how the morning sun seems so clear and bright. And at the singular hot air balloon floating in the distance.
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I know the source of the pain.
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If only he would stop sleeping in his contacts.
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One watered-down espresso. This oat milk creamer did not froth.
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Focus.
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They want to do the bus again. This time, we convince them to head north instead. It’s a straight shot and a much shorter ride. We park on the side of the road, a few cars behind the bus stop, to make sure they actually make it onto the bus.
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I think I’ve got it.
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I really don’t know.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Six
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I try to listen through the floor to hear the music she is playing.
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First thought: tight. Inside, though, it feels more open. It is bright. I look out the window to confirm which direction the house is facing. I have no feelings.
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Too many people.
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A whole gaggle of familiar faces while we wait for our drinks and donuts. This is the part of small-town living I always wanted…it’s the part of it that I love.
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We both show up at almost the exact same time. Nice weather = tourists = no parking.
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Ham sandwiches. Smoked pork brisket. Roasted broccolini. A carafe of Picpoul. Lemon meringue pie. Finding another woman you can eat with is like opening a present on Christmas day.
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Savoring the sun.
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There he goes again.
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I tell them how a mountain lion got one of the sheep last week. Everyone’s eyes grow big.
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I understand the logic. But I still need to be moved.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Five
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Start with gratitude.
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Every moment is a choice.
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A watered-down cappuccino, a re-read an article, an inventory of the beauty of the week.
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Never go after 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
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The day after is always more painful than the day of.
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All black + kimono one more time to really feel into it.
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“Serve the gift.”
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Dried rose petals on top of honeycomb. Slices of dried quince and pear, and apricot artfully layered. Gold leaf on dried figs.
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A long table full of love.
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Constantly being reminded that what was once a baby is now riding in cars being driven by boys that we also think of as our babies.
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Go be free.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Four
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Should have stopped myself. I need more sleep.
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I apologize to her for missing last week. “Life sometimes gets in the way,” she says.
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Before I leave, she wraps my right arm in what feels like two rolls of tape. I take a deep breath in and try to relax my body as she gently pulls my shoulder back and down, my scalenes and pectorals up and away.
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My arm is still vibrating, still tingling, still numb. What if it never goes away?
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The sound of my shoes on the gravel in the parking lot.
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Detachment.
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My mind keeps drifting to other places and other dreams. I stare out the window and look at how the sunlight makes everything shimmer.
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Chopin Nocturne No. 6, Op. 15, No. 3
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Well, we tried. At least now he believes me.
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Too many things.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Four
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Honestly, I needed a break from zero-hour drop-off.
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Sky on fire.
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I think about the mountain lion.
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Today is going to be the best day of the week.
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I tell him that I’m a perfectionist. He’s telling me to trust myself. He tells me to think it through. I look at the vine in front of me and the three vines ahead of that one. I try to imagine what the clusters will look like over the next season or two. “Good,” he says. “You’re thinking ahead. You’re right.” I’m still too tentative with my cuts.
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I would fix this, but I am not the one in charge.
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But I hate saying that I need to be in control. It’s not the control. It’s empowerment.
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Candlelight. Practice. Conversation.
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I tell her about the old Italianate with the gravity press that needs to be rescued. She hands me a business card. The other one has a name that is so unique, and yet she’s now the second one I know. What’s with this small town and its duplicate odd/weird/unique names?
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He keeps telling me I need to have honest conversations.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Three
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Wilting roses.
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The quiet arrival of dawn.
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Last day of school for the week; I am unprepared for this.
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Work Dad wants to make the stairs safer for us to come up and down.
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Popcorn and cookies. I skip the Cava and drink in conversation instead.
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The words coming out of their mouths are the exact words I let out of mine, and now I feel less alone. Less crazy. Less upset.
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Before he leaves, he tells me to be careful. A mountain lion is hanging around. “Well, we are in nature,” I say.
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One of the few times that I am alone in the building. I play Chopin and drink more water while I cruise through this one last task. The sun is setting, and the room is getting darker and darker.
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What is the dream?
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Where do you want to go?
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-Two
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Monday or Tuesday?
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A box of blueberry muffins. Orange juice.
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I miss the fullness of the river.
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We both realize that it is Valentine’s Day.
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That fine line of telling the truth but not too much truth.
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Smoked Duck Salad with Point Reyes Blue Cheese, pickled fennel, pear, endive, and buttermilk dressing. Wild Mushroom and Grits with sundried tomatoes, pine nuts, and Parmigiano Reggiano. Grilled Steelhead Trout with blood orange beurre blanc, braised carrots, and smoked trout roe. Affogato. Pinot Gris. Pouilly-Fuissé. st. Lambrusco. Commandaria.
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Real conversations.
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I schedule a pruning lesson for myself.
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“I dream of a world where…”
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Stay inspired.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty-One
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In the dream, my leg has one large gaping hole. I am running around making sure everyone has what they need. But I can not seem to find a solution for myself.
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Mon-daze.
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These morning rides when the sky is soft and bright and quiet.
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One load in and one load out, over and over again.
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It is not in my nature to not care.
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I tell him that its not the level of work that I struggle with - I can work hard and don’t mind working hard. It’s the lack of control over my time that I dislike most.
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Aligote.
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A cancellation that brings relief.
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While they are talking I realize that we are the team that caused their tie in the league - handing them that loss kept them from making playing the play-offs. We silently shake our fists in the air in victory. Four more league wins next year and we make the playoffs. Not impossible.
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If the last thing I can say before I leave the table is “I believe in you,” then I think I’m leaving on a high note.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twenty
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Not today.
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Seems like a lot for a little.
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Right. It’s spring again. All of the things that there are to do.
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Rearrange and make new again.
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This is not what I expected it to be, yet I can’t seem to tear myself away from it.
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I take the book and sit outside in the metal chair. We are nearing porch weather. The kind of weather where I begin to find swathes of sunlight on the front deck for reading and sleeping. I am so ready for this weather.
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Sparkling wine and sunshine.
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New muse.
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An upside of west-coast living is being done with all the sports before 8pm.
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“Y'all should know me well enough…Please don't call me on my bluff…”
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Nineteen
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Felt like sleeping in.
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Vitamins and orange juice and mentally preparing myself to coach again this morning.
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Ice cold in the gym.
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I apologize to the ref for yelling at him, but that if he doesn’t call those, then it starts to become dangerous - even in 10-and-eleven-year-old rec ball.
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Podcasts and cleaning. Slowly moving through each room to give my arm a break.
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Kids PB & J and Dill Pickle Chips.
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When you have to keep buying adult-sized clothes for your kid, which means spending adult-sized money.
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I am. I am. I am. I am.
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Moments where you are sitting somewhere, with some people, and trying to understand how this is your life.
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A waste.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Eighteen
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Finally Friday.
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Peach roses and pink ribbon and the rising sun.
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All black.
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People are funny animals.
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But when will we no longer need to to have these conversations with one another?
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The sky is clear, the sun is out, every thing feels fresh and vibrant.
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We arrive at her office and see three chairs and plates, and napkins set outside on the balcony. A much better way to spend this hour with one another.
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Apple news?!
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Just four of us.
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Wine and rewatching the game.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Seventeen
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Tired.
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The return of the light.
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Coffee cake is not done. It’s never done in time. I dump Raisin Bran and milk into a bowl and tell him he needs to eat it in the car.
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Still a little bit behind.
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The three of us head out into the vineyard to find the sheep. We walk and walk and walk. Are we sure we know where we are going?
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I take them to what I think is the right path, but I am wrong. We climb up through some more grass and find the path. Kind of way off.
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I tell them we should do this more often - just wander in the sunshine, take pictures, and explore. There is so much beauty.
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Boundaries.
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I start to feel a few tears fall.
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I tell her that we did the right things. We achieved the goals. We did it. We’re making this a place people want to belong.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Sixteen
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It’s only Wednesday.
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I remember all of the things I didn’t tell him last night and spit it all out as we make the trek across the bridge. “So many weird conversations, so many weird conversations.”
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Another one.
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What really matters? None of this.
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She asks me how I’m doing. I tell her a list of gratitudes.
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But at least I have her.
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He insists on driving me to my game, but everything feels off. This is disrupting my routine.
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I sit them all down and pass out the medals. One for each of them. An acknowledgment of how they have served themselves and others.
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Down by seven at the half. Not impossible. Not impossible.
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Up by one. Up by three. Win by three. Win by three. Win. Win. Win.
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“Remember when you thought you were losing them?”
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Krug and fried olives at Goose and Gander to celebrate.
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Falling asleep with happy tears in my eyes.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Fifteen
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Light.
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The smell and the sound of bacon sizzling in the oven.
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We head down the hill and come around the curve. The moon is big and white against the pastel morning sky. I am transfixed.
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Will it ever get old?
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He reaches to give me a hug - this stranger that I met just yesterday. But maybe it’s just an energy thing. Yesterday he picked mustard blooms. Today, I watch him play with the camera and bounce light off the model’s face. I tell the one beside me that I hope to get to that goal someday - to shoot like this, to feel creative like this again.
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She says it without saying it. I leave knowing that I am not going to get what I want. The question is, What do I want to do about it now?
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Already time.
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Too many 3s. It’s only 9 points, but we can’t seem to claw our way out of it. It was supposed to a be a win. Perhaps I jinxed us.
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They ask to stop for ice cream on the way back home.
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She is checking in. I list what is wrong, but what is also right. She reminds me that I dreamt myself into the place I am in now. That means I can dream my way out.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Fourteen
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Gratitude first.
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Nothing for breakfast. We will need to stop on the way back.
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I choose not to fight him about the crocks anymore. It is no way to start a morning.
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Today is our last practice.
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They seem less organized than I had hoped, but I slow my steps and fall behind them, taking a few pictures of the mustard between the vines.
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She’s here! She’s here!
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I want to play, but I am still in work clothes. I apologize.
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I look at their faces, and for some reason, I am without words. There is so much to say, and yet it doesn’t seem quite like the right time to say it. And I am sad. Maybe it’s just because I am sad.
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As expected.
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I try to take a picture of the moon, but I am out of practice. I worry that I have lost my touch.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirteen
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Discipline.
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More than before.
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I try to use the mouse with my left hand because the right one does not want to move. Not as hard as I thought it would be.
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I turn on the Chopin and get to work. If I can just do this.
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Today is just all nerves.
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This is hard.
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There is something that feels so defeating when you’re trying to offer guidance and pay attention to what’s happening on the court but you’re also trying to tape an ankles.
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All I can do is watch.
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I tell them that the one thing I don’t want is a quiet ride home.
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I just need to sleep.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Twelve
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Less pain than the night before. I pop a few more ibuprofen.
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A triangle of light.
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The fluidity required to navigate the world around me is
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The question is, “How’s your heart?”
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I think I’ve got everyone on the same page. Let’s see if we can reach the finish line.
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But the thing is that it’s just not who I am.
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She asks a question that is observant, yet shocking and I am probably all too honest in my answer. But that’s just who I am.
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Forgetting little things.
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She stops me and tapes my arm and that relieves even more pain. A sigh of gratitude.
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I end the practice with what I think are the right things to say. This only works if we decide that we are all in this together. Only if you really think you can win.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Eleven
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Cold.
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More mobility upon waking than when I fell asleep. Relieved.
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Alone in the office, dark. Standing and staring out of the window.
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I’d rather not say anything.
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I think back to the day before and that were said and the more and more I think of these words, the more and more resolute I become.
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The question is, “How?”
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We express gratitude for one another.
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The pain is starting to return.
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I’m squatting on the sideline in front of my chair, starting up at the scoreboard. I feel the impulse to cry. Some combination of stress, frustration, and the pain in my arm.
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“Losing is still hard.”