Ten.Two Thousand & Sixty-Four
Monday. Feels like the right day for the white dress.
I did indeed leave it here.
I thought I would have time to read, but not today. Best to just get on with it.
I go to the bathroom even though I don’t really need to go to the bathroom because it feels like the most right thing to do at the moment.
I know what’s happening here, and I am not surprised.
I choose a different door.
1, 2, 1, 2. 1, 2, 5. I should take more boxing lessons. I tell her that it reminds me of Tae Bo with Billy Blanks. She’s too young to remember that.
It only happens in the summer: the sunlight and the glittering bugs and the golden tinge of the leaves.
He argues that microwave popcorn tastes the same as movie theater popcorn, and I strongly disagree. And he is going to have to come with me and watch Mission Impossible.
“Hope is not a strategy.” But. Maybe it is.
Ten.Two Thousand & Sixty-Three
Up earlier than expected.
Ah, her face. I’ve missed her face.
Right. We manifested these places.
The fog is lifting. The birds are still singing. The olive tree is swaying in the breeze. Ripples in the pond.
Mind racing even though I want it to be still.
I choose a chicken recipe from Ottolenghi. I crush the garlic and slice the dates, scoop out the capers and olives and mix it all together.
I regret not taking that walk.
Sunday scaries.
But really, it’s not the worst thing.
Try again tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand & Sixty-Two
I head north but am stopped by the electric fence. I turn around and then decide I don’t want to run into anyone from work so I head up a mulched trail that brings me back home and stay on the paved roads of the neighborhood.
The way the light comes through the trees.
“It’s really remarkable. It’s remarkable to watch because I don’t really know what I’m doing on any level, but I trust in what’s going on in my body and the feelings that come up. And I do my best to be as true to myself as I can be. And that’s all that I’ve ever done and it has led to a very creative life.” - Rick Rubin, On Being
Cool mornings and coffee and words.
Appreciating the slowness of this Saturday.
I spot a small book of poetry that I also have. She is a little kooky, but I like her.
Sauvignon blanc and salad and hot wings. The lunch I didn’t know I needed.
He’s not that mad about it.
This is what summers are made for: friends, tri tip, ribs, potato salad, Spanish rice, wine. I look up at the sky and look at the stars.
So past my bed time.
Ten.Two Thousand & Sixty-One
Finally Friday.
I take my time, stay cozy beneath the weighted blanket.
Everyone is sleeping in. A quiet morning for me. Water and a bowl of cherries. Spoiled oat milk.
First one in. I make a list of all the things that need to be done. This will not take much time.
Writing and rewriting.
I walk back to the office. “I just don’t want to have the conversation,” I say. Still alone.
Lists and more lists.
The weather outside is perfect. There is a gentle breeze. The sky is flat and clear. The trellised magnolias are trying to bloom again. I am alone.
This is a lesson in surrender.
I don’t think I’ve done enough to be this tired.
Ten.Two Thousand & Sixty
Cool gray skies. The sound of woodpeckers in the distance.
I start to wonder if I am doing too much today.
Warm cup. Warm hands.
“…personal success is when you work your hardest to become your best…”
I am late to the meeting because I need to eat. I must eat. It is already noon, and I have not left my desk since 8 a.m. The quinoa salad with cucumbers and tomatoes could have used some feta. I eat only a little bit, but I eat it very quickly.
I can hear my frustration building. I don’t think they understand. It is not their fault that they don’t understand. They are doing the best they can with what they know. We are all just doing the best we can with what we know.
I have walked by this driveway dozens of times. It is a dream, this place. A dream.
“Watch more women’s basketball!” he says as he shakes my hand. “I’m doing that!”
I think we might win this one.
Tired but worth it. Always.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Nine
What day is it?
Why am I so tired? I take another sip and put my head down on my desk. Am I even going to make it through the day?
Words matter.
I keep moving the to-do list from one day to another.
Shocker.
She wishes me bad luck. I will take it.
He asks me why I’m being a “hater.”
I stare out the window as she drives us back home. I will never get tired of these glowy evenings or the color of the sky or the trees.
Pizza and beer.
So quiet. So tired. Tomorrow will be fun.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Eight
3:00 a.m.
6:00 a.m.
61 degrees downstairs. I make the coffee and the bacon and some cinnamon rolls from a can. Everyone is still asleep. The sun is just starting to creep above the horizon.
We realize that it’s been two years since we last talked. It feels like a lifetime ago. I think of how my favorite part of going to Squam was spending the night at her house and catching up in real life over coffee and tea.
Game 2.
The wind blows so strongly that there is no amount of sun that will get me warm. We huddle under the blanket while we watch the game.
Haribo cherries.
3-0. 3-3. 4-3. Win. Do it again tomorrow.
He’s convinced that the key lime pie is not a key lime pie.
Fireworks are always after my bedtime.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Seven
2:42 a.m. I give up. I blame it on the moon.
We set a time to connect. She is three hours ahead, so I guess the benefit of this insomnia is that we were able to catch one another in real-time.
I remember that I didn’t respond to her text. She sends me pictures of the family. So much can change in five years.
I make a plan for what I want to do for the day. I do wonder, though, when I might take a nap.
I don’t think I could have done that at her age. I’m proud of her.
The doorbell rings. I am trying to put the pieces together. Who is she? Why is she here? Oh! The article. The article.
When you see Pax Mahle, and you’re wearing a Pax shirt.
I have done none of the things I planned. Zero.
I can’t stop sweating. I remember that I have been awake for 16 hours. I know that is why the reason I can’t talk or explain things.
Another baseball game tomorrow. Do I want them to win?
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Six
Sunday.
Grateful for the slowness of time.
The only one awake. A bowl full of cherries. The sunlight filters through the trees. I wonder if they are starting to like it here as much as I do.
I think of how I can change it moving forward.
This is enough for now.
Loveski and future planning.
I wander the aisles. I am forgetting things, I know it. But it’s been so long since I did the grocery shopping.
It’s about the expression.
They make my birthday dinner: champagne, grilled rib eye with a salsa verde, smashed potatoes with fried onions, 2019 Quintessa.
There is so much for which I am excited.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Five
It’s so freaking hot.
3:32 a.m. There’s no way I can go back to sleep now.
Yoga day.
The hours move too quickly. I can’t quite finish all of the bathrooms before we have to leave. It’s hot.
I eat my regular order: a kid’s PB & J from Sunshine. Torres Iberico chips this time. A vintage all-star jersey. A little sweaty. It’s hot.
She gets me down from the stands and tells me to look at my child. He looks like he’s about to cry. He’s trying not to make a big deal out of it. Cold and clammy in 90-something degrees. I know they think they need him. I know he shouldn’t play.
When you make someone eat, you call it a “force feed.” What do you call it when you force someone to drink?
Well, if there was a game to sit out, it’s this one.
She sends me the videos of memories her phone made. Us on a plane. Us at the ranch. Us as the winery. It will be us again in September.
Tomorrow is another day.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Four
Finally Friday.
I decide to go in early anyway. I could use the peace and quiet. And I don’t want to think about all the cleaning that needs to be done.
SOS mode.
Emails and more emails.
What exactly is it that I am expecting to happen? What would happen if I just let go of any expectations? But I don’t think I’m asking for too much.
All things considered, aren’t I the luckiest?
What if we use this time for exploration instead? I eat the pasta and make a list of all things I would do if I could do anything. It makes me smile.
I ask them if they’ve caught any rattlesnakes lately. They have not. They seem disappointed about it.
It is hot. So hot. So, so hot. I am sweating. I can feel it softening the once-crisp cotton.
But then there are evenings like these.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Three
No. I must go today.
I wore my slippers instead of shoes, so he grabs me the croque monsieur biscuit and a green juice.
I need to explore this more. There is something there.
Maybe this is one of the reasons I need to stay.
We bring some of the flowers back to the office. The color of the roses speaks to me.
She is not wrong.
La Calenda. Margaritas, fish tacos, chips and salsa and guacamole, ceviche. Phoebe’s eyes. Truth and honesty.
The valley at golden hour. The way everything glows. The way the leaves on the vines tremble in the breeze. People on bikes who look like they can’t ride a bike.
Team dinner at Gott’s as we roll into All-Star weekend. Wine and tacos and cupcakes on the table. Electrified kids.
Grateful for my people.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-Two
Today.
I start right away on the email to her and then try to edit all of the transcripts quickly. It is taking longer than I thought it would, and I am regretting all of my decisions on process.
She calls to ask if we need to reschedule my appointment. What does she mean? I am in the car, halfway there. I had the wrong time. I hang up the phone. I started this whole day wrong.
I know what I did wrong: I went straight to work on a day off. I should have started with a list of gratitudes.
We manage to make lunch happen: steak frites, tomato soup, a kale salad, lemonade, laughter, and real talk. I tell her she’s turned my day around.
But I should really not go to work tomorrow for real, right?
I sit and write a list of 38 things for which I am grateful.
None of the kids are here for dinner, so we do an impromptu walk and head to Goose and Gander.
There is an older black couple at the table behind me, and I can’t keep myself from staring at the woman. Her dreadlocks look fresh, gray hairs sitting just at the base of her scalp. Matte red lip. No eye makeup. Her voice is low and slow. A quiet beauty. A gentle power. I want to know her.
It’s not about today. It’s about all of the days I have left.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-One
In the dream, I am holding a fork and knife. I look them straight in the eyes, smile, and say, “Thank you for giving me my beautiful children.”
Probably not exactly in uniform, but oh well.
I always need something to eat in this meeting. I probably shouldn’t be crunching on this apple, but I’ve learned not to ignore my hunger.
This is what I was afraid of. I tried to warn them.
He asks me when I’m going to take a vacation. I tell him tomorrow. Just going to enjoy being home with my family. I should have taken more than one day.
I really do like shrimp.
I feel oddly protective about this, and I can’t tell if I’m taking it
It is only Tuesday, but it feels like Friday. But it’s only Tuesday.
St. Helena wins.
The setting sun and the golden hills and thanking them for bringing me to California.
Ten.Two Thousand & Fifty-
Monday.
Just the two of them, still sleeping while I make the coffee.
He is already there when I arrive. I take a look around and see all that is not where it’s supposed to be. And where is a manager? And it’s a good thing that something in me said to wear jeans and sneakers to start the day.
Finally, a blue sky.
It’s official.
“All my friends are leaving.” “What about you?”
I settle for an apple and a bag of sour cream and onion chips while I wait. I keep waiting. And I wait some more. There is nothing to be angry about. It just is what it is.
Not as many as I would have liked, but it is a solid group. Once I start sweating, I cannot stop.
He has gone to the movies again. I hear the rustle of fruit snacks in his pocket. He is glad he had a lot of popcorn because he does not want swordfish for dinner. I rub his head. He looks more and more like his older brother every day.
You can do anything you want.
Ten.Two Thousand & Forty-Nine
I put the oils on my skin once more. I have a favorite. She tells me her good news. She deserves it.
The most perfect kind of yoga for a day like today. I lean into my soreness.
We got our timing all wrong. It’s a mad dash to get one to the field for practice and the other down to Napa for the first game. And then I remember that I should have woken her so she could pack her bag for her trip. Why does this feel like a Tuesday in April and not a Sunday in June?
One and done.
I am trying to focus, but I can’t. I want everything to happen more quickly than it is.
His presence brings a smile to my face. If I’m going to go to work on a Sunday, it would only be for him.
Who is the right person for this information?
it is funny how we can cement ourselves in a person's memory. They will think of us as that person who did this or is this, regardless of the passage of time, or the shift in circumstances. Sometimes we are not allowed to evolve.
Just the four of us for dinner. Burgers. A little bit of laughter.
Good thoughts only.
Ten.Two Thousand & Forty-Eight
2:42 a.m.
Game day x 2.
How many toilets can I clean before we leave?
I put my ear up to the door and hear nothing. Who knows when they actually went to sleep?
I can’t tell if he’s nervous or tired, or both. Probably both.
Three parts steamed oat milk, one part coffee. Am I coming back to the first love?
End tables in place. It is slowly coming together. Next: lights and a table with benches.
Supplications.
Imitation Bottega parmesan dip.
Nodding off at the dinner table.
Ten.Two Thousand & Forty-Seven
Finally Friday. And it’s game day.
It’s also “Watch More Women’s Basketball” shirt day.
Being happy on my way to happy.
We are both standing outside of the gym doors. She has earbuds in her ears. I have a phone in my hand. “Who plans a tournament that starts at 9 a.m. on a Friday?” “I know, right?! I’m trying to watch these last 12.7 seconds before I get on this call.”
This is the boy I remember.
“Who’s taking me to practice?” A multiple-kid kind of question - a question I am asked way too frequently.
In my daydream, I am giving all of them a hug because look at how lucky I am.
He drives. He sleeps. I stare at the landscape as we crawl northward home under these beautiful blue skies. I believe the word he used was “chaparral.” Now I see some old redwoods. Now I see the sign for the farmer’s market. Now I see everything.
I could be overstepping, but I basically tell him that this isn’t worth it.
A table of six for the night. A table full of laughs. A table full of kids that are and aren’t my own. A table full of conversation. Oh my goodness, this is what my life is. I want to hug them all.
The smell of microwave popcorn.
Ten.Two Thousand & Forty-Six
In the dream, we are in the mall. He is telling me that he must buy the coffeemaker. My mother has told him he has to get the house together before we get married.
In the dream, we are at Station Pizza, but it is an eat-in restaurant with a patio. The owner tells me there is someone here from Wisconsin that I used to know.
Is it Friday yet?
Neither of us feels like working.
She’s fishing, and no one is biting.
The furniture is here. The furniture is here!
I tell them that it is almost as if my editor knew all of these personal things about me and gave me this opportunity to meet them and all of these other people. These conversations have been such a gift.
I’m not sold.
I do like it here in the grandstands.
Cocoon.
Ten.Two Thousand & Forty-Five
No more dairy.
Solstice. Cancer season.
I buy the book.
Less data entry means less dancing needed.
Miso caesar with grilled shrimp. Crudite. I prefer tiny carrots. Lemondad. Cold-brew decaf.
I take notes while they talk. I think of more and more questions. I remember why I liked to do what I did.
I fill in the form and say to myself, “I’m going to win this.”
I like it when he’s talkative like this.
Vanilla shake with extra sprinkles.
I won it.