Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Nine

1. A Thursday that feels like a Friday.

2. Cacao and silence.

3. The sun promises to arrive early today, and I am grateful for it.

4. There is nothing I can say to make things better for her except to try to make her see that she’s not alone in this.

5. Stay away from the Doritos.

6. Passionfruit margarita and tacos and salad and a glass of champagne. Some laughter. Some hugs. It’s a beautiful day and he’s playing soul.

7. They have the same energy.

8. I knew it.

9. Aguachile and ceviche and halibut. Verdicchio. Ice cream sunday.

10. Do they stay, or do they go?

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Eight

1. Another quiet morning.

2. Let’s keep it positive.

3. Emails first.

4. Acceptance is the first step.

5. In the picture, they are wearing socks - at the beach. I shake my head.

6. Not our last lunch, but our last work lunch. The peace that comes from knowing that this ending is not really an ending but a transformation.

7. Everything is coaching.

8. A few moments alone in the office. The glow of the afternoon light on my desk. Chopin squeezed into the left ear. More water.

9. Six. This is a good start.

10. Hot shower. Soreness. For dinner, an assortment of leftovers from Bistro Jeanty, Northblock, and Angele. A short pour of sauvignon blanc.

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Seven

1. Must abide by the alarm today.

2. Kouign-Amann and a cafe au lait with oat milk for a sick-day treat. Probably don’t need the butter with all of this congestion.

3. For some reason, she is making me feel guilty. I laugh to myself.

4. The power of relationship and storytelling to transform a life.

5. We worry too much about the things outside of our control. What is the easy answer? How can we make it easier on ourselves?

6. Leftovers.

7. The warmth of the sun.

8. Advil once more.

9. Gentle sunset. Pastel sky. Hunger.

10. I’m just not mentally there.

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Six

1. Another night of strange dreams that do not make sense.

2. Not feeling it.

3. I take my cacao, sit in the chair, and stare out the window.

4. A break in the clouds.

5. I don’t actually reread the poem before I share it because I never reread my work. I should break that.

6. He’s upset that I keep doing work on a sick day. He is not wrong. But I knew it needed to be done, so I help with this one thing. This one thing is just a big thing. They always feel like big things.

7. Night three without children. I appreciate the quiet but I do miss them.

8. The gift of time.

9. “Cotton Candy clouds.”

10. Soft water.

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Five

1. Yoga time.

2. I remind myself that I will regain my strength over time. Slowly but surely.

3. Mopped and vacuumed floors.

4. He says the house feels even bigger without them here. It is bigger and quieter.

5. I check to see where they are - how many miles, exactly. 2,450. Two dots are moving down a highway toward Sanibel. I thought today was supposed to be a rest day?

6. I almost fall asleep on the way to lunch.

7. Steak frites and a glass of Gigondas for me. Cassoulet and a glass of Beaujolais for him. Baguette and butter. It is sunny but still cool.

8. Why am I so tired?

9. Nap on top of the covers.

10. Wine and laughter and celebration. The feeling of being both in the past and the future at the same time. You realize how quickly time passes. Are the decisions I’m making today supporting the future version of myself that I wish to be?

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Four

1. Still so tired.

2. She’s already awake, still on east coast time.

3. They managed to consolidate. Good.

4. I can’t keep my eyes open.

5. A ramen vending machine.

6. A bag of Swedish fish and water while watching the planes through the window.

7. Empty car on the way back - still can’t keep my eyes open. He says it’s just because I’m getting old.

8. When you remember that there is no one else to cook for.

9. A pitcher of margaritas and chips and guac and tacos. Churros.

10. Thank goodness today is only Saturday.

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Three

1. So, so tired, but it was really worth it.

2. First day of summer vacation. Last day before they leave.

3. Not 100%.

4. Teenage daughters and their antics.

5. All of this is just so unnecessary and illogical, and it’s almost funny.

6. But our phone calls are the best parts of my day.

7. I keep peeking out the window to see if I can find a baby fox or two, but everything is quiet.

8. I tell her the thing is that we don’t put up with bullies, and that’s why we’re reacting like this.

9. Will I last long enough?

10. Tomorrow is the day.

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-Two

1. 1:42 a.m. More melatonin.

2. Too much attitude considering it’s the last day of school.

3. A Thursday that feels like a Friday.

4. We do our daily check-in as usual, mark off the list or make a new one. Realize that we could solve all our problems if someone would just listen to us.

5. Carnitas with her outside on her deck. Hot in the sun but perfect in the shade.

6. No construction. It is wonderfully peaceful.

7. I still feel the same.

8. Tacos and shaved ice and very loud music. We take a few pictures in the photo booth once it clears out.

9. We order shaved ice - pineapple and coconut - and sit on cold metal chairs while we eat them. Beach balls are blowing in the wind.

10. I tell her I feel like I’ve undergone some essential rite of passage now that I’ve chaperoned a school dance. Now, it is past my bedtime.

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty-One

1. 12:32 a.m. I try not to be angry about it.

2. If you never say anything, how will it change?

3. What did she say to her? One day, I will correct the truth.

4. “Surprisingly,” I say, “the jackhammer is quieter than the concrete saw.” I don’t think she believes me.

5. How can they not hear it?

6. I had high hopes for this, but now I’m so disappointed.

7. Finally, it’s quiet.

8. Everyone keeps posting pictures of red skies in New York. I want to be empathetic, but all I can think is, “That’s nothing.”

9. The thing is, all you can do is be empathetic. Remember that none of this is their fault. Look out at the gray skies and green leaves. Write the emails. Dream.

10. An invitation for which I’d move heaven and earth.

11. We were right. The foxes do live beneath the deck.

12. Today was a good day. Today belonged to me.

13. Fox: Decisiveness; sure-footedness. You are becoming like the wine, unseen yet able to weave into and through any situation. Decide to be invisible. The art of Oneness.

Ten.Two Thousand & Thirty

1. In the dream, we are walking and walking and walking. Every door is just a portal to another cavernous room. We can’t find our way out. There is no way out.

2. No zero hour.

3. Making time to ride with them to school, doing the loop.

4. Sawing concrete.

5. I say that it’s just my intuition, and I need to explore every option before we go any further.

6. None of this is making any sense.

7. It didn’t go as planned - it rarely does - but we make the best of it anyway. I decide to turn it into a lunch. It’s good for us to sit and talk and for it not to always be about work.

8. The thing is, no one really knows what’s going on.

9. Championship game, round two. 1-1 after six innings. Errors in fielding lead to some easy runs scored. Too much to fight back from in the bottom on the 7th. Final score - 5-2. A hard loss but a well-fought game.

10. We walk past the truck, and both see that the tags are from Mississippi. We laugh. That explains everything.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Nine

1. I try to slide into the driver’s seat, and an arm pulls me back out. I scream and wake myself up.

2. I decide that today I need to be patient and open-minded. It will be the only way through.

3. I keep the to-do list small. The brain needs a break. And what is it all for, anyway?

4. I walk away confused. No, not confused. Disappointed.

5. I have the ice cream even though I know I shouldn’t. But it’s buffalo milk, so maybe better? Right?

6. Order

7. 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.

8. I don’t want it to be over already.

9. “It was a terrible night of dreams,” I say.

10. Bad habits.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Eight

1. I knew I would regret it.

2. Ten more.

3. 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.

4. “Even though it’s not fancy, sometimes it’s still nice to be in a hotel, isn’t it?” She agrees.

5. Only five.

6. 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.

7. If I can just stay awake through all of these Taylor Swift ballads.

8. 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.

9. How quickly all of this has come all of a sudden. This week will be quite fast and furious.

10. The same ill feeling from the night before. Perhaps it’s all the weird suburban takeout.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Seven

1. 5:38 a.m.

2. Yoga day. The children are still asleep. Move the dining room table. Sweep the crumbs off the carpet. Lay out the mats.

3. It feels like I’m going on a vacation, and I am weirdly excited about it.

4. I make a salad and take myself out to the porch. Half sun, half shade. The sound of a weedwhacker.

5. All white everything.

6. So close. So close. And yet, so far.

7. 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.

8. A glowy moon sitting low in the sky.

9. Soft water. Weird suburban takeout. Negative COVID test - it really must just be the allergies.

10. A bed to myself.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Six

1. Finally Friday.

2. 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.

3. “We always used to have to wait for you.”

4. She has a house full of people. Mine is empty. I relish the ability to work in peace and quiet.

5. That feeling when your plans shift, and you have an unexpected expanse in your day.

6. 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.

7. That feeling when you don’t have to prove yourself.

8. Two carnitas tacos and a lime Jarritos.

9. I mean. Really. This? The drama continues.

10. 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

1. Thursday that feels like Friday. Why is this short week feeling so long?

2. I read her text out loud to him and laugh. Not surprised at all.

3. A confirmation.

4. The people. The people. Remember the people.

5. 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.

6. 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.

7. 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.

8. Real talk.

9. Just the two of us for dinner. Pot roast and mashed potatoes and Game 1.

10. But really, there is no choice but to relax into the uncertainty of it all.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Four

1. Digging around for a Claritin at 2 in the morning.

2. None of this makes any sense. But should I be surprised?

3. This time, I opt for the mug with the lid.

4. 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.

5. Nacho Cheese Doritos and an apple.

6. 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.

7. I tell her to keep driving. I’m not ready yet.

8. 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.

9. I can’t do Gott’s again.

10. Uh-oh.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-Three

1. Tuesday but Monday.

2. It still eats at me, that one question.

3. 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.

4. What am I going to do when she’s gone?

5. But it’s a beautiful morning, I say. And it really is.

6. 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.

7. “I thought you were going to the high school for the game?” I am, I am. But these emails.

8. “I don’t even know these girls, and I’m crying.” “That’s the beauty of sports.”

9. 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.

10. 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.

11. 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

1. Not yet.

2. 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.

3. Where is the sun?

4. I start to circle every one of the bullet points. I hear my voice in all of these.

5. 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.

6. Ghost Hunters while resting in bed.

7. Still no sun.

8. But sometimes, he does listen to me, and then I realize that all is not lost after all.

9. Homemade croutons. Crisp lettuce. Pancetta and onions and penne.

10. Everything is changing. Nothing stays the same.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty-One

1. 4-something in the morning.

2. I stay up long enough to turn off the alarm and fall asleep just in time to wake up for yoga.

3. Tight.

4. Thank goodness I have one more day after this one. I can relax and not panic.

5. 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.

6. No, I didn’t make a mistake.

7. Leftovers.

8. Still in yoga pants. Still in bed. Letting myself rest.

9. “Don’t let him intimidate you. You are just as smart as he is.”

10. In 1971, a three-course meal at Chez Panisse was $3.95.

Ten.Two Thousand & Twenty

1. 3-something again. I read my horoscope for the day and pray I sleep from 5 to 7.

2. She’s going to be the one that goes far away for college and won’t think twice about it. Already so independent.

3. The good thing about being up so early is that you can accomplish a lot before 10am.

4. The weight of my reaction is an indication of how deeply I must work with the shadow.

5. It’s here.

6. I start to feel bad about wanting the quiet, but then I remember that I have to give myself what I need.

7. 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.”

8. Soundtrack.

9. 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.”

10. Croutons made from anchovy butter and chicken fat.