Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Forty-One
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The last day.
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No grits today.
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Forgot to turn the lights off on the golf cart.
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If she compliments you, it’s for real.
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I tell her that I feel like my children are leaving the nest to go out into the world. Is it weird to say you’re going to miss a room full of strangers? But they’re not strangers anymore, and I guess that is why it feels like this.
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What am I going to do now?
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All I can think about is just how good the energy was in that room.
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I quickly move outside. Too many people in the cafeteria. I am peopled out.
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Chopin and email catch-up and daydreaming.
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“The future of wine is you.” - John Brecher
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Forty
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12:32 a.m. Oh. No.
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I lay awake and think about the sequence of events. If I were to lay it all out for someone else, what would they think? I think they would agree with me.
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More melatonin to try to squeeze in a few more hours before the 5:30 alarm.
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“I just need to know for me,” I say.
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Not enough time.
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Need less.
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“You must have a low tolerance for bullshit.” “I do, and that’s part of the problem.”
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Why is wine important?
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I tell her that even though I am looking forward to a bit of rest, I am going to miss having them here. I am going to miss the energy of this group; I am going to miss the conversations, the laughter, the insights, the inspiration.
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Life is so beautiful and strange.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Nine
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The sound of heavy rain on the roof.
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A quick scan of the weather. We should catch a break. I pray we catch a break.
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Grits.
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I cut our usual morning call short; people are early. This group is particularly punctual.
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What am I giving?
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“The most important ingredient of creativity is constraint.” - Elaine Chukan Brown
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The best day. The very best day.
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I tell her it’s also refreshing to experience this through their eyes; to be reminded of how fortunate I am to be where I am, doing what I’m doing.
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Too many thoughts to put into words.
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A fox runs across the back deck. Another sign.
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The best day. The very best day.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Eight
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In the dream, she issues me a warning.
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In the dream, I also lost my folder and my books. I search and search and search, and I can’t find anything that belongs to me.
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Also, in this dream, they are trying to teach me a piece of music and are frustrated with me because I cannot read the sheet music.
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Go time.
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It’s good we are doing this, even though it is hard. And at least it is not raining. And at least it is with people I like and admire.
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He drives me in a cart up the road to the base of my house. I begin to make my way up the stairs, and, oh boy. The watch says 63 flights.
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Kimono.
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Favorites: 2006 Burgess Cabernet Sauvignon; 2013 Gallica Cabernet Sauvignon; 2008 Lang & Reed Cabernet Franc; 2003 Mayacamas Cabernet Sauvignon.
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Dessert, please.
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She says she’s feeling awestruck. I am feeling the same.
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So, so, so much gratitude.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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Forgot about the basketball game.
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Secretly but not-so-secretly praying the rain starts soon so I don’t feel bad about not wanting to go to the field.
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These young refs for these little kid games. I tell him that I already miss basketball.
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It is a Saturday, but it is also peaceful being alone here in the office, sitting on the floor eating soup while using the stapler, imagining myself being able to, at some point, play this particular Chopin prelude.
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Triple checked, and still a mistake. Inevitable.
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The two of us together trying to pull it all together, but the printer keeps printing ghost letters.
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He buys lamb chops while I buy the cleaning supplies.
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All the thoughts, all the time.
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Just four of us for dinner tonight. I eat two helpings and relate it to stress.
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Tillamook Campfire Peanut Butter Cup ice cream.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Six
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It feels like today will be the day.
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Half hot water, half coffee. That’s basically decaf, right?
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We talk about how that is why it’s an addiction: I am feeling stressed and that is what I want to help soothe the discomfort.
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The sun is shining, shining, shining.
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Quiet office but a lot of noise.
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The more changes you make at the last minute, the more likely there is to be a mistake. And that is what I am most nervous about.
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I sit in the chair and eat carne asada while comparing documents. I should have taken this outside.
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Mistakes.
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“I told her nevermind lol”
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He asks me if I feel better. I do, of course.
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“Speaking truth to power,” she said.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Five
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Just not ready.
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She has me on the table and rubbing that medal thing across my bicep and forearm. Still so tender at the elbow. They say something about my scalenes and my subclavicals and Jones Technique.
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What I hear is that it’s been three months, and my fingers still go numb. It’s been three months, and I still don’t have full extension.
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It’s been too long since we’ve connected. It was so very needed.
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I tell her that I’m so tired I just want to lay on the floor.
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I need cacao?
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I take my lunch outside, sit in the sun by the fountain then make my way to the olive trees.
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Not worth it.
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I am the last one here.
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I can’t see the end.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Four
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More light.
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I brown the onions and chop the bacon. I feel my forehead begin to perspire as I stand over the stove, carmelizing the onions.
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I should try it just because.
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Just as I turn on the classical…
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Funny how she thinks spewing compliments will somehow make me forget all the things she’s not doing that she said she would do.
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The sun, the sun. So glad to see the sun.
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She is looking at me like she’s confused. Why are we now both confused?
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But whatever the outcome, this conversation is by far better than anything we could have had with her last year. And he feels honest and relatable. And I believe him.
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It’s a sore subject.
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They tell me about how she shoveled snow from in front of the basketball hoop so they could shoot hoops.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Three
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More darkness. More rain.
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How is it already the last day of February?
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I bring the vision board downstairs to my desk and place it front and center.
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Sitting there, I can feel my own energy; it is low and distant.
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Carnitas. I sit in the chair by my desk and eat quietly. They are trying to figure out why the system is not communicating with the thermostat. We thought it would be an easy fix, but it is not. “At least we know we’ll be cool come June,” I say. “We won’t still be here, will we?” she says in response.
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This is the new deadline.
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The rain starts and stops and starts again. It is both a nuisance and a relief. But I’d rather be at home listening to it pound against the rooftop while I lay in bed.
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In so many ways, we are both the same.
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I do a temperature check on the situation. Not much has changed.
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So, so, so tired.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Three
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More rain.
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A strong desire to stay home.
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What will get me through today?
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I explain that I’ve already been operating at 110, and so, right now, this is the max you can get from me. It is too exhausting to do much more.
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84 degrees in my office.
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Surprised but not excited.
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I am reminded that this is going to be more challenging than I thought. More challenging than I wish it would be.
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Long day with nothing going quite as I planned, but here we are.
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Cacao. Divination. Soup. Visioning. Laughter. Quiet. Intention. Gratitude.
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Yes, more of this, please.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-Two
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Up before the alarm again.
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Last night’s conversation led to grits for breakfast this morning.
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I tell him I feel like taking tomorrow off, but I know I can’t. There is too much that needs to be done.
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I see now that part of the eyebrow is also missing.
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I unlock the storage and drag out the container of old retreat supplies. I am looking for scissors, glue, other ephemera for tomorrow night. I put all the magazines in a pile.
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Together, we go through every drawer, wipe down every surface, remove every bit of trash. It looks like a room again.
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I lay in bed.
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He is lying on the floor.
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More rain.
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More clouds rolling in.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty-One
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3:32 a.m.
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Fog hugging the mountaintops.
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I think this is good.
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My timing was off.
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We don’t understand the text. We try to fill in the gaps ourselves and go from confusion to anger.
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The bus again?
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The sun breaks through for a bit. Three carnitas tacos and a lime Jarritos while sitting in the stand, waiting for the next game to begin.
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He and his friends walk into town so that the problem can be corrected.
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“Well. Let’s head out and salvage what we can out of this night. This has been a shitty week,” I say as I throw my coat back on.
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They’ve disappeared somewhere, and I think I know why.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty
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I think I still hear the rain.
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I go outside to start the car. The phone is ringing in my hand as I walk back into the house. My physical therapy is canceled.
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Then the Nixle alerts start to come in.
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Snow. Real snow. Imagine that. But not for us here on the floor.
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As we drive into town, we see the bright snow filling the gaps between the trees on top of the mountains. Mayacamas and Vacas covered in white.
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I tell her that it’s time to
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I didn’t realize I was in charge of that.
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I didn’t realize I was going to be doing that, either.
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Burgers and duck fat fries, and lemon cake for dessert.
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So much, and yet it’s still not enough.
Ten.One Thousand, Nine Hundred & Thirty
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Waiting for the snow.
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Waiting for the right words.
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Waiting for a sign.
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I feel so out of practice. I’m just trying to hear myself, hear what my own senses are trying to tell me. I’ve been so out of touch.
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I can feel it in my body. Jaw popping again. Shoulders inching toward my temples. Constricted breath.
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There is much to be done.
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Nothing is staying in today.
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We debrief afterward. I listen. I reassure. I try to find solutions.
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He has placed two milk cartons full of firewood by the front door. The thoughtfulness is what gets me.
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I think I hear the rain.
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.