Ten.Two Thousand & Ninety

1. Yoga Saturday.

2. I forgot about the olive oil cake!

3. Everything is tight, tight, tight. That’s just stress.

4. I run through the events of the week in my head. Something has to change, but I don’t know what and I don’t know how.

5. I just want to find my clarity.

6. I wait patiently for the clerk to bring my items to the car. In my side mirrors I watch folks load cases of water in the trunks of their cars and fill their hands with plastic bags. I imagine the kind of excitement they have planned for their day.

7. The last of the bathrooms.

8. Chicken tenders and french fries and rosé. It’s cool in the shade. Adults on one end. Each set of children at a different table but all in a line.

9. I can’t think anymore.

10. Chicken alfredo and a cookies and cream ice cream cake for his belated birthday meals. I look at the three of them all smiling, all helping one another. At least I’m doing something right.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Nine

1. TGIF.

2. I can’t remember the dream, but I remember the feeling of the dream.

3. Today feels like a good day for writing.

4. “How do you manage your stress and anxiety? I’m always asking myself what would you do?” “I’m flattered. I cry.” “Perhaps I just need to cry more.”

5. We all decide that yesterday was a good day and a very good way to spend the afternoon together. More of this, please.

6. Salad and laughter. The three of us. But if not for this place, I would not have them.

7. Thank you for letting me vent.

8. “The morning after our fifth date, he stood in the kitchen, shirtless, bathed in the clean light of summer morning. Aaron glowed gold. I traced the muscles of his back with my fingertips before wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my head in the space between his shoulder blades, and watched the prairie grasses dip in the wind.”

9. I read over the words. I know that this is the block. That if I can get this out and done, then I can move on.

10. “Are you happy? Are you happy? Are you happy?”

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Eight

1. A Thursday that feels like Friday.

2. For various reasons, I feel incredibly unprepared.

3. Something is off. Maybe it’s the nose ring. Maybe it’s the sobering reality of returning from a vacation. Maybe it’s the gray morning. Maybe it’s something I will never know.

4. He beat me to the office today. He tells me about his paper and a new citation tool his advisor showed him and

5. I can see it on her face as soon as I walk in.

6. I cancel the games and tell them I’m happy I got to see so many of them this summer. They send back gratitudes.

7. We tell her that once those sliding glass doors close, this is a safe space.

8. She asks a question, and I laugh so hard I spit water out onto my computer. And I can’t stop laughing.

9. Five of us are in the office. We need a day like this. I am pouring water into a wine glass from a large pitcher. She is giving her a lesson on social media. And she is also giggling quietly; it will take her some time to realize she’s safe with us. And she is trying to actually do some work, but there is no way she can focus with all of the giggling going on.

10. I feel a little guilty, a little sad, a little frustrated, a little lucky.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Seven

1. In the dream, she tells me about these people and this place. She says that sleeping arrangements might be tight, but it’s worth it for the experience of being away in the woods. Her car squeezes through a treelined road before it stops in front of the house. As we walk into the home, she warns me once more that things are a little different in this place. I wander around the house. There are people slowly starting to fill in. Even though the home is large, the air is shrinking. I go into various rooms and realize that all of the locks are on the exterior of the door. They are large rectangular locks that slide across the door frame. There are no handles and no way to unlock the doors from the insides of the rooms. I start to worry. I want to yell for my friend and tell her that I need to get out, but I am too scared to say anything for some reason. I begin to hear doors closing shut.

2. It’s mentioned in the report, so I think I should probably go to the early meeting.

3. I forgot about breakfast.

4. 2014 Mouton Rothschild. 2017 Sine Qua Non, The Hated Hunter.

5. But what would I do without her?

6. We could try it, but it’s going to change whether you like it or not.

7. There is nothing to be afraid of here.

8. Did I eat lunch?

9. School starts in one week. One week!

10. 12.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Six

1. I take a corner piece of brownie for breakfast.

2. I wanted to get my steps in, but I’ll take a ride today. There will be plenty of time for walking.

3. I forgot.

4. We forget that a workplace is made up of real people with real things that go on outside of the four walls or hundreds of acres of trees.

5. Delightful.

6. Note to self: burger day makes the office smell like onions.

7. Why is this a question of whether or not I have time?

8. Literally, everyone plays volleyball?

9. She says she wasn’t meant to have a job that she just checks in and out of. She wants to be ain a place that keeps her engaged and interested, and challenged. It has to be meaningful.

10. What if it all falls apart?

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Five

1. Monday, Monday, Monday.

2. I hit send.

3. The crunch of gravel underneath my heels and the cars zooming up and down the trail.

4. Not long enough, I say to myself. But I try to remember that it is a gift.

5. The extra soy sauce was a bad idea.

6. I think of all the things that need to be done before school begins again. How is it already time? Why do I feel like I’m out of time?

7. “Everyone went on vacation at the same time. Everyone quit at the same time.” I laugh and laugh and laugh. He probably doesn’t think it’s as funny as I do.

8. Defense day.

9. I explain what I’m thinking, and I think he gets it.

10. Shower dancing.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Four

1. Take me back to the beach.

2. A more energetic flow for today’s yoga session.

3. The way the sunlight illuminates different parts of her: her hands, a portion of her face, a sliver of the arms. Perfectly golden.

4. I turn too sharply and bump the side of the fridge. I watch the ceramic mug crack into several pieces, coffee all over the refrigerator door.

5. Pomodoro technique. “I am a fast writer,” I say to myself before I begin.

6. More emails.

7. Today’s call is long even though I don’t have much to share.

8. Still daydreaming about yesterday’s naps on the beach. Yes, more of this, please.

9. Doing more by doing less. That is the goal.

10. Tomorrow.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Three

1. Cleaning day.

2. He asks if I want to go to the beach. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been.

3. We grab cheese and crackers and chips and yellow kiwis.

4. Talyor Swift all the way there.

5. It’s still overcast, but the sand is warm. We set up a few chairs and lay out the blankets. I quickly find myself on my back, face toward the soft glow of the sun pushing through the fog. There is laughter and baby squeals but mostly just the roar of the ocean.

6. I wake up and eat a handful of cherries before falling asleep again.

7. Someone has started a very lively game of beach volleyball right behind us. It’s not that I don’t want anyone to have fun, but must we be so shrill? I eat some gummy worms and lay back down.

8. I manage to sleep most of the afternoon, feeling the cool ocean breezes on my cheeks and listening to the rhythmic sounds of the waves. I could do this every day. I want to do this every day.

9. “They should know by now that if they don’t do the trips, they don’t get the treats.”

10. Ceviche tostadas and chenin blanc.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-Two

1. Finally Friday. It’s been the longest short week.

2. He asks me to take him to the gym before I go to work. I pack up my things and bring my journal with me and write while he shoots around.

3. First one in.

4. He asks me why she seemed frustrated. I explain, but I don’t know if he’s really listening.

5. Good enough for today.

6. He fills me in on what I’ve missed, how no news is good news, and how he’s ready for the next thing. I make him promise to tell me he’s leaving before he’s leaving.

7. These meals with her outside on the deck are my favorite. It’s like being at home but not. It is quiet. Birds float from tree to tree. Small black lizards dart across the gravel paths. Still, no rattlers, thank goodness.

8. We talk about her future and how we should make a plan for her. She says this room is a safe space for her.

9. I feel the weight of my worries in every limb these days.

10. Slow down the time.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty-One

1. Now it’s Thursday.

2. Work from home day. Headache. Dentist. Meeting.

3. On the verge of tears. What is it? Just stress.

4. I am not in the mood, and twice, I think about getting out of the chair.

5. I tell him that we just don’t want to have to fight for the truth.

6. I know that the little mistakes being made are because I’m disengaged. I don’t care anymore, and that’s a problem.

7. I eat the entire plate. Something in my brain flips. Anger.

8. Rat in a cage.

9. He says no party, just money for stocks.

10. I just want to feel like I felt while I was gone.

Ten.Two Thousand & Eighty

1. Already.

2. What is the source of the tears?

3. The office is quiet and warm. The fans in the hallway are whirring. Who left these on? My water glass in on the counter. The orchids are beginning to droop.

4. “How was it?” they ask. Every time I think about the last few days, I think of how easy the days were. “I laughed so much. I needed it.”

5. Why is she one of my favorites? Because she’s real. She’s smart. She’s kind. She’s thoughtful. She’s so fucking funny. She’s herself and I love her very much. I should tell her that.

6. I think of the green and the river and how soft my skin felt.

7. Overwhelmed.

8. I’ve said too much. She’s heard too much. I am going to have to shift my language.

9. I inhale the chicken fajitas. It’s not even that good; I am just that hungry.

10. I could use the break.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-Nine

1. 4:19 a.m. local time. I can’t sleep.

2. Where are my bags? Do I need to go to baggage claim, then to Clear, then to my actual terminal?

3. Delayed. More time to think.

4. I get up to throw my trash away and see that the entire cup of coffee has fallen to the floor. A man offers me his napkins to help clean up the seat. “I guess I’ll go try this again,” I say.

5. He tries to pay me back for the spilt coffee. “I think it fell when I sat down. I’ve been feeling awful since you left.” I refuse the money, tell him the apology is enough.

6. Finally leaving Texas.

7. Leather vest over a gray t-shirt and a Vietnam Veteran hat. The middle seat between us stays empty. He keeps passing me packets of Biscoff like an old lady digging out peppermints from the bottom of her purse to give to the children in her pew. It’s a sweet and kind of funny gesture. I eat them all.

8. Back to my blue skies and gold hills and oaks. I can’t seem to fall asleep though I feel like I haven’t slept in days.

9. I'm almost cold in the shade. All the smiles on his face.

10. I need one more day.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-Eight

1. Last day.

2. I pack, and then I work.

3. Coffee from the Keurig. A bowl of cherries. Water, water, water.

4. She leaves first.

5. I text the group chat to let them know I’ve boarded my first leg. I thank them for including me. I needed every bit of it.

6. I turn on my phone. “You now depart at 12:42 a.m. Click here to book a new flight at no cost.”

7. I ask them if they can give me my bag. They say no. I don’t feel like fighting for it.

8. He’s having trouble closing out his drawer, and I think he’s also feeling bad for me. He pours me a very large glass of sauvignon blanc.

9. I sent it to the wrong address.

10. We’ll try this again tomorrow.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-Seven

1. I am awake but keep my eyes closed. It is still early. I’m not sure I want to be up just yet.

2. Half a cup too many.

3. Tupelo Honey. Decaf, cranberry juice, water, scramble.

4. It was worth the walk. I could watch it forever.

5. I ask him about the Trail of Tears signs. Next time I return, I will find it.

6. I think I’ve hit my limit. I sit on the floor and balance and stretch, listen to them talk.

7. A half-dozen PEI oysters and shrimp cocktail. I want a glass of muscadet, but they only have albariño. A slice of key lime pie to take home.

8. I walk barefoot to the deck. The heat of the ground and the weight of the air feel good against my skin. I want to go home, but I don’t want to go home.

9. The final evening.

10. Hot water. I think about how grateful and lucky I am to have such a wonderful family that makes me laugh, that I will genuinely miss when I return home.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-Six

1. Did I ever turn it off?

2. New day.

3. The way my skin feels so soft. Humidity and soft water.

4. Smoked salmon on an everything bagel.

5. Duck boat tour. He talks about the factory boom, their subsequent closings; the death of the economy; the great flood; the polluted grounds (which I know means polluted water); millennials with man buns (which I know means gentrification and a shifting culture).

6. I am the child. I mostly listen.

7. Hogwash rose. Finally, something familiar.

8. Laughing so hard I’m crying.

9. “Unapologetically bougie.”

10. I am the luckiest.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-Five

1. Sunrise, sunrise, looks like morning in your eyes.

2. Another one bites the dust.

3. Same time?

4. Vegetable quiche, grits with butter and sugar, decaf.

5. He comes out from behind the wall and says he doesn’t want to go into the bathroom by himself. He says his grandad is working and told him to go by himself. I ask him where his grandad is. He points to the end of the airport at a rental car station. I ask him how badly he needs to go. Really bad, he says. He looks like he is only 4 or 5 years old. I wonder if his grandfather will be mad if he goes into a bathroom with a woman he doesn’t know. But the kid looks a little panicked. I tell him I will take him into the women’s bathroom with me. Just as we start to walk in, I realize there is a family restroom - one single bathroom with a full door that locks. I show it to him. He thanks me. I tell him to lock the door and go straight to his grandpa when he’s done. I feel like I should stay.

6. He calls to tell me about his touchdowns. I can hear the joy in his voice.

7. Back to the lookout. It is clearer than yesterday, and you can really see the curves of the river and the flat tops of the mountains.

8. Fried green tomatoes. No pimento cheese.

9. Two margaritas and four strikes.

10. Tired but happy.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-Four

1. If I get up now, I can attack most of the day before they even wake.

2. I decide against holing up in the hotel and see if my uncle is down for breakfast.

3. Skin so soft. Humidity plus soft water.

4. Potato Dish P4.

5. Everything here is so lush and green. Varying shades of green. Thick. Like you could sit on the treetops as if they were clouds.

6. Laughter. So much laughter.

7. I ask him if he’s happy that he moved. It’s an unequivocal yes.

8. I keep sending nervous texts to make sure everyone gets to where they need to be and that he has all of the things.

9. I sit on the bench and stare out at the water. I feel the weight of the humidity on my skin. We try to decide on the itinerary for Saturday. I am adamant that we all do the riverboat cruise.

10. Margarita. Tacos. His favorite place.

11. Bed.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-Two

1. Slow start.

2. Dishes. Cacao with almond milk.

3. Surrender.

4. I start to sweat by the time I am in front of the restaurant. My watch thinks I am working out.

5. Smartly, I get a ride back to the office.

6. “I miss seeing your smiling face here!” I text. I think of her every time I roll through the stop sign.

7. We decide that our next lunch date will be at Oakville Grocery.

8. Up and down and up and down and up and down.

9. Damp carpets. Hopefully, this does the trick.

10. One sleep.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy-One

1. Late.

2. A new moon spread: contrary Hummingbird, Ant, Dragonfly.

3. Two more days.

4. I make a very short list of things I must do today. I remind myself to be grateful for the slowing down of things. This should feel harder. Or maybe, it’s just that now, nothing I’m doing is for the first time, and now everything is just easier.

5. Choices have to be made.

6. No fear of mistakes.

7. Two more days.

8. I decide to be the 6th so we can play 3-on-3. Plus, I need the workout for today.

9. I realize that there isn’t anything more I can do to help besides listening.

10. Can’t sleep.

Ten.Two Thousand & Seventy

1. I take the frothy milk drink outside with my journal and a blanket. I do not need a blanket, but I put it over my legs anyway.

2. A small of red cherries.

3. Pomodoro technique to finish the assignment. One down and one more to go.

4. Nauseated.

5. Light blanked even though it’s 78 degrees in here. I need the weight of something on my body.

6. I take a flashlight and check all the bug traps. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It’s almost worst than seeing something.

7. Trying not to think about work and only about today and this episode of “Alias Grace.”

8. Wednesday. Just need to make it to Wednesday.

9. We talk about aliens and the pyramids and birthday trips to Phoenix.

10. When you feel like there’s nothing else you can do.