Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Nine
I try to slide into the driver’s seat, and an arm pulls me back out. I scream and wake myself up.
I decide that today I need to be patient and open-minded. It will be the only way through.
I keep the to-do list small. The brain needs a break. And what is it all for, anyway?
I walk away confused. No, not confused. Disappointed.
I have the ice cream even though I know I shouldn’t. But it’s buffalo milk, so maybe better? Right?
Order
We pull up to the house and see two foxes, one in the driveway and one sitting near the front door. We stare at one another. I inch the car closer and closer, making my way into the driveway. I park. Fox 1 and I stare at each other. Neither one of us is moving. I tell it to go away. I stare at Fox 2 and tell it to move along as well. I hope they aren’t living under the deck. We walk toward the door and hear more scurrying.
I don’t want it to be over already.
“It was a terrible night of dreams,” I say.
Bad habits.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Eight
I knew I would regret it.
Ten more.
I settle for scrambled eggs and sausage, half-decaf-half-regular. She makes herself waffles and grabs packets of Nutella. We take the food back to the room.
“Even though it’s not fancy, sometimes it’s still nice to be in a hotel, isn’t it?” She agrees.
Only five.
It is not what I would have chosen for myself, but I am staying open. We can’t imagine living here. It is already so hot. There is only this one monster of a thing.
If I can just stay awake through all of these Taylor Swift ballads.
Things you see on the side of the road: a dented Arizona Iced Tea can, a plastic bag full of styrofoam, a scattering of clothes the color of the rainbow, dead grass, bits of tire.
How quickly all of this has come all of a sudden. This week will be quite fast and furious.
The same ill feeling from the night before. Perhaps it’s all the weird suburban takeout.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Seven
5:38 a.m.
Yoga day. The children are still asleep. Move the dining room table. Sweep the crumbs off the carpet. Lay out the mats.
It feels like I’m going on a vacation, and I am weirdly excited about it.
I make a salad and take myself out to the porch. Half sun, half shade. The sound of a weedwhacker.
All white everything.
So close. So close. And yet, so far.
I am not yet to Jameson Canyon, and already I feel drowsy. I start to munch on the pretzels. I start to wonder why it is that sometimes driving makes me sleepy. I have to stay awake. I have so far to go.
A glowy moon sitting low in the sky.
Soft water. Weird suburban takeout. Negative COVID test - it really must just be the allergies.
A bed to myself.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Six
Finally Friday.
In the dream, she is smiling. Can’t stop moving. She is looking at me and wanting to tell me something but I wake up before she does.
“We always used to have to wait for you.”
She has a house full of people. Mine is empty. I relish the ability to work in peace and quiet.
That feeling when your plans shift, and you have an unexpected expanse in your day.
Her honesty is refreshing. Her excitement is palpable. But it’s when I say something about Chez Panisse, and she pulls down a picture with a quote from Alice Waters that it feels almost too good to be true.
That feeling when you don’t have to prove yourself.
Two carnitas tacos and a lime Jarritos.
I mean. Really. This? The drama continues.
I tell him that I have a good feeling about this one. I really do. This one feels different than the others. But then again - maybe it is just me that is different.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Five
Thursday that feels like Friday. Why is this short week feeling so long?
I read her text out loud to him and laugh. Not surprised at all.
A confirmation.
The people. The people. Remember the people.
Us and her homemade beans and pesto and bread all at a little table in the middle of a crowded room, and yet it also feels like we made our own little world.
I don’t know. I don’t like that I don’t know. But I don’t think anyone knows. So we’ll just keep on doing what we’re doing.
I tell her the story about finding it on Craigslist and how for years I’d had a Pinterest board called “A Place in the Woods,” and so when I saw it, it was an easy choice. This is what I had been asking for. This is what I needed. I still need it. I can’t imagine leaving.
Real talk.
Just the two of us for dinner. Pot roast and mashed potatoes and Game 1.
But really, there is no choice but to relax into the uncertainty of it all.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Four
Digging around for a Claritin at 2 in the morning.
None of this makes any sense. But should I be surprised?
This time, I opt for the mug with the lid.
I stay longer than I intended, but it was good to have this time with her. Validating to have this time with her. So rarely do I get to have honest conversations when I am here.
Nacho Cheese Doritos and an apple.
He says that we should stay near the rattlesnake until they arrive. “You want me to stay there?!” I say, half-laughing, half-terrified. I make no promises with that one.
I tell her to keep driving. I’m not ready yet.
29-9. It’s a win, but not the kind of win that makes you all that excited. But they have their pin and their banner, and maybe they’ll make it into the newspaper.
I can’t do Gott’s again.
Uh-oh.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Three
Tuesday but Monday.
It still eats at me, that one question.
I open the car door and start to place my things inside. I drop the cup of 1/3 coffee, 1/3 hot water, 1/3 frothy oak milk. Everything all over my white skirt. Tuesday but Monday.
What am I going to do when she’s gone?
But it’s a beautiful morning, I say. And it really is.
This is taking longer than expected. But I am outside, I say. The flowers are changing from white to purple. The tips of the redwood branches are electric green. The low whiz of golf carts passing by.
“I thought you were going to the high school for the game?” I am, I am. But these emails.
“I don’t even know these girls, and I’m crying.” “That’s the beauty of sports.”
Play-by-play of the boys’ game while we watch the girls play. Two outs, and he’s up. The lead-off hitter. Base hit scores the winning run. These underdogs are really doing it. On to the championship.
I look at them sitting over there in the grass, and my eyes start to fill up again. I look up at the sky. The wind is blowing against the tops of the trees. I like that I care so much, maybe too much. These moments matter. It’s fine. I’ll cry if I want to.
A glass of rosé and a salad and laughter and understanding and not giving in to a vanilla milkshake with rainbow sprinkles.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Two
Not yet.
I debate whether or not I should wake him up or force him to go. I decide he needs the rest, and, honestly, so do I.
Where is the sun?
I start to circle every one of the bullet points. I hear my voice in all of these.
I read the last pages of the book and feel my body shaking from the inside. Rare to feel them during the daytime. I usually never feel them during the day. Maybe I’m too relaxed.
Ghost Hunters while resting in bed.
Still no sun.
But sometimes, he does listen to me, and then I realize that all is not lost after all.
Homemade croutons. Crisp lettuce. Pancetta and onions and penne.
Everything is changing. Nothing stays the same.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-One
4-something in the morning.
I stay up long enough to turn off the alarm and fall asleep just in time to wake up for yoga.
Tight.
Thank goodness I have one more day after this one. I can relax and not panic.
I see my Inner Mentor. She lives in a cottage near the ocean and cuts flowers from her garden, and plucks figs from the tree. She bakes bread and writes and makes pottery. She is so sure of herself. She knows what she knows and doesn’t feel the need to explain herself.
No, I didn’t make a mistake.
Leftovers.
Still in yoga pants. Still in bed. Letting myself rest.
“Don’t let him intimidate you. You are just as smart as he is.”
In 1971, a three-course meal at Chez Panisse was $3.95.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty
3-something again. I read my horoscope for the day and pray I sleep from 5 to 7.
She’s going to be the one that goes far away for college and won’t think twice about it. Already so independent.
The good thing about being up so early is that you can accomplish a lot before 10am.
The weight of my reaction is an indication of how deeply I must work with the shadow.
It’s here.
I start to feel bad about wanting the quiet, but then I remember that I have to give myself what I need.
He says he tried to watch the game, but there’s no coverage there in the OC. I tell him the score of the game. I reread his last text message: “You’re better than your predecessor.”
Soundtrack.
I text her on our way home from the movie. “Actually. Turns out I don’t like watching movies because they make me cry - even Guardians of the Galaxy.”
Croutons made from anchovy butter and chicken fat.
Ten.Two Thousand & Nineteen
I ask myself what I need, and I think what I need is to linger.
Sometimes I just get stuck on a thing.
I start to write something in the text and then change my mind. What would be the point? What is the result I desire?
She’s going away again.
She tells me my blood pressure and it is high. Again. It is always high. Aren’t I too young and too relatively healthy for it to always be high?
I mean, I do want to slow down time.
If not for this, I wouldn’t have her. And so there’s that. There’s always that.
Finally, the email I’ve been waiting for.
I can’t tell if I’m shaking because I’m cold or if I’m shaking because I’m nervous. Because there is only one more half-inning to go before they win the championship.
“Prepare to be stomped like a late harvest Gewurtztraminer.”
Ten.Two Thousand & Eighteen
Only Thursday.
But better than yesterday.
The gift of a white orchid on the desk. The soft morning light. Shoes immediately off. Taking it slow.
I find the pitcher and fill it all the way up. I must have left m y water bottle in the stands.
Where is the sun?
If nothing else, there are the relationships that one develops in this role.
Where are my cards?
I worry about the numbers.
Macaroons for the walk back home.
Maybe I just need the space.
Ten.Two Thousand & Seventeen
It’s only Wednesday.
Do jeans make sense for today?
Forgot my water bottle today. Hopefully, there’s a pitcher. I open the cabinet above my head - there’s a pitcher.
I text her to say that all I want to do is lay on the floor. Me too, she writes back.
Hearing her say it out loud hits different, and I’ve even known the news longer than everyone else.
I really do always learn something new.
Another one bit the dust.
Empty office. No construction noise. Staring off into space.
His knees are up against the dashboard. Such a big body. I am always staring at him. Must be a first-born thing.
I really gotta get some sleep.
Ten.Two Thousand & Sixteen
What will today bring?
I run around to make sure the lanterns are in the bathrooms and the breakfast is almost ready. I worry about the smell of the burners for the chaffing dishes and whether the lights will go out, and how everyone will behave.
He sits me down and asks me what is going on. Did I see the email? What is happening? Did I know? He wants to know what we will do with no leadership.
They need a COVID test. Of course, they do.
We see the snake in the road.
I start to write a response that sounds like an excuse, and no one wants to read an excuse, so I just tell them that I’ll do what I can.
She wants to know if I know and if I was as surprised as she was. I was not.
Boy’s first game of Little League Tournament of Champions. Up 8-0 in the 3rd inning. Just two more runs, and then we can call this game? I speak too soon. They make a comeback, slowly, run by run. 9-7. Pitcher just needs to get through these last 3 batters. We’re at the bottom of the order. It should be easy, but anything can happen. Swing and a miss.
0-0 in the 5th inning. I missed most of the game, but not a lot of action. Saints score a run in the 6th. Then three more. 4-0. If she can just get through these last three batters, they are on to the finals. So proud of these girls.
We walk from the softball field to Gott’s where the dads/coaches are drinking beers while the kids kick up gravel. It’s chilly but not too cold. Clear sky. I am just so tired.
Why is it only Tuesday?
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifteen
Don’t want to get up.
It was a hunch that turned out to be correct.
I tell her about how he vaped at the table and how he and his wife fed each other at the table. How weird is that? How weird!
Do I even need to keep sending this?
Two bags are not better than one. I am not lightening the load, I am just redistributing it in the most uncomfortable way.
What to do?
A little relieved that I don’t have to leave this office. I like the seclusion.
I tell her that my anxiety is always so high right before these meetings. It’s because you never know what is going to happen. You never know what you will encounter. And yet, they can also be so predictable. But still.
This is going to be trouble.
But it’s over. It’s finally over. We hug. “We made it,” we say in the parking lot. We made it.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fourteen
Horrible nightmares. 3:30 a.m. wake-up. Why do so many of my nightmares take place at Wake Forest?
But if I make the eggs, no one will eat them.
Are we there yet? Yet?!
This whole seating situation is ironic to me. Funny, even.
Double cheeseburger, lettuce wrap; add grilled onions, ketchup, mustard - yes, keep the secret spread - fries and a vanilla milkshake.
How it starts is how it finishes.
I tell her I just want to lay on the floor. She tells me that it’s okay. That these are the kinds of things that happen when you’re doing too much and you’re tired. These little mistakes will happen.
“You look tense,” he says. I am. I have been.
What will I do when these people are gone?
I made it.
Ten.Two Thousand & Thirteen
When I don’t feel like yoga-ing is when I know I need to yoga.
Quiet foggy morning in the trees.
Colors today. Green and blue and purple.
I want to stop and take a picture of the big white roses and the way the light and shadow play on the sidewalk.
Our eyes meet, and I decide that I must sit with her. It’s her hair, it’s her eyes.
I tell her that before I decided to come, I asked myself why I was still seeking outside confirmation and validation.
I buy the tumbler with my zodiac sign on it, a small bowl with an hourglass to remind me of the divine timing of life, and a small dish with a moon and clouds to remind me to dream.
A few minutes alone under the trees with a book, trying
Always so much cooler in the shade.
Proud of them.
Ten.Two Thousand & Twelve
Let’s make it an easy day.
I pull on the sweater and feel its softness against the skin.
This at 6:30 in the morning is too much. Too much.
I watch the hours creep by. I should have been gone by now, but there is still more to do.
The sunlight on the rhododendron and the way the thin purple leaves seem to glow.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. The sound of gravel underneath the foot. The sound of gravel underneath a truck tire. The sound of gravel underneath the wheels of the golf cart.
Everyone else knows about him now. At least I, too, know when things will supposedly change.
She looks me in the eye. “One by one, like dominoes,” I say before I walk back to the car.
“This New Moon in Taurus, make it your mission to mingle through the art collectives, salons, and covens that most inspire you.” - May 19th, Chani horoscope
I will feel regret tomorrow for drinking this milkshake. But for now, pleasure.
Ten.Two Thousand & Eleven
In the dream I was doing psychedelic breath but I am waking up because I feel like I’m doing it in my sleep.
Keep it light.
There are only six more pages left. I have to be economical with my words.
I remember to have my free hand to guide me up the stairs.
I tell her she can be both/and. Good things can make us sad.
I feel like I’m in a fog. Thank goodness she is here because I can tell I’m disconnected. Off my game. It’s getting hotter.
I tell her I need to get off the phone. Nausea. Maybe it’s because it’s 2:15 in the afternoon, and I haven’t eaten all day. I try not to throw up while I warm up the day’s lunch.
He tells me to keep doing what I’m doing. I just say “thank you,” but on the inside, I’m asking, “How? How? How do I make this thing that I do that everyone says is so important be the only thing I do? Can someone help me figure it out? And fast! I’m slowly dying over here.” But I keep just saying, “Thank you.”
WTF.
41 days.
The way the dusty dusky golden light of the setting sun pokes through as we approach the underpass. Oh, it’s so beautiful. It’s all so beautiful.
“It was whatever.”
Ten.Two Thousand & Ten
Morning light. Thank goodness for this morning light.
How can I dress for two completely different needs at once?
He reminds me to have one free hand for the stairs.
Planned power outage on the day of the breakfast. Of course. Because this is just how it is going.
Things I can’t control.
Cool breeze on the mountaintop. Salad and chicken and beans. Wine in the dappled light. Of course, there are these moments that make you forget about everything else, and you have to be grateful for that.
Snap back to attention.
I can’t stop sweating.
He asks me how I’m doing. I let out a sigh and sink a bit. He mimics me. “What do you mean by this?” This is not the place or time or person to explain all that is contained within a sigh.
Even if I’m not credited in the magazine, at least I know I did it. I know I can do it again.