Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Thirty-One
Where are my pants?
First light.
They leave early to get their xrays, him for his chest, her for her thumb.
I forgot my lunch.
We debrief on yesterday’s meeting and laugh and laugh and laugh.
There is no need for us to fight today.
I tell her that she’s right: I ask myself that question a lot. If it weren’t for my colleagues, I would have been gone a long time ago.
Truthtelling.
A few bites of her leftover sushi. No focus. Conversations with people like that will confuse you.
Contract signed.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Thirty
Should have taken the day off.
No school, no morning madness.
Can I go back under the covers now?
I need two screens.
The incessant beeping of the cherry picker.
The way she makes me laugh.
Another meeting where I feel my heart in my throat. I push my index fingers into my temples. I need this to be over.
He says he can tell the coaches are angry that he’s sitting out. I tell him I’m proud of him for making a mature decision that takes care of himself. Two weeks is a blip in a high school career - in a life.
I’ll know in the morning.
Couldn’t it be easier than this?
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Nine
This season and the way the air feels different.
Yoga in the morning light.
A quiet ride down the trail. Too cloudy for the hot air balloons. Smells like harvest.
Grocery shopping with no list feels dangerous.
I’m just going to put this all in the garage, and we’ll figure out the garage later. But for now, breathing room.
I tell him he must get the missing English done. He scrolls through, and I see a B. B! I say nothing, but on the inside, I want to explode.
Warmer than I expected.
We finish up the rest of the film. Outpacing last year; just might reach the goal.
Positivity only.
Only a few more months until Christmas.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Eight
So, so tired. Only mildly sore.
Hot tea, slow movement.
Haircut time. I remember to grab the special glasses off the counter.
The clouds are thick and obscuring the sun, but just as we make the curve to head down the mountain, the clouds break. Glassed on. We stare at the ring of fire for a few minutes.
Awe.
I think they won.
Leftover love.
Rewatching with no sound.
I see a clip of her story. Looks like they will make the best of it and rest in Italy.
Quiet.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Seven
Work-from-home Friday.
I can breathe.
Decaf. A few moments of quiet on the deck as the sun rises.
We remember not to take that trail. The path is wide and uneven, rocky. You begin by immediately walking up a steep hill. I am not as out of breath as last time. I tell her I’ve been walking almost every day now. Up to 2 miles most days. After work or whenever I can squeeze it in.
Camarones al Mojo de Ajo.
We chat about nothing and everything, and that is what helps the days go by.
One day, I will miss the smell of her mass-produced teenage-scented candles.
As we make our way over Howell Mountain and into Pope Valley, I think of the upcoming season and the impending bus rides.
I hate this place.
He gets in the car, and he does more than sigh. He talks. He says the coach said he’s looking forward to seeing him grow over the next few years.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Six
The soft light of morning breaking through the trees.
Trying to listen for footsteps. Who is awake?
Decaf in the French press.
Unpacking the snack delivery.
She calls me to check in. I hadn’t called her yet like I usually do. I love that we have that routine…that when we break it, it feels unnatural.
No construction.
I doubt I will see them today. It’s laughable, really.
“Taking it one day at a time.”
This is not sustainable.
It is later than usual, and the sun is beginning to set. Pink clouds and soft skies. Silhouettes of hillsides and mountain tops. Look at all the beauty.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Five
Cool. Cold. Comfortable.
I brush my teeth and work and rework sentences in my head.
Sometimes I forget that I just shouldn’t say anything.
Winter whites. A mug without a lid while doing drop-offs.
I hear my voice shaking, feel my body shaking. I know that I am not yelling because I am not a yeller, but I know it’s clear that I’ve lost my cool. They don’t care. That’s really all it is. They don’t care.
Feeling sick to my stomach. I try to spiral back up instead of down.
I don’t say anything. I just head straight to my room, change my clothes, grab my earbuds, and leave.
I walk over in my slippers to give her the update.
153/100.
I am comfortable and safe and fed and warm, and there is really nothing to be afraid of. Anything that feels too large to hold can be addressed.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Four
The perfect kind of fall morning: cool air coming through the windows, the quiet, the slow return of the light.
Laundry instead of morning pages.
I check my work phone and see no text message. I will wait.
Let’s reword this and soften the edges.
Today, all of the construction noise feels extra loud. So loud, I keep putting my hands to my ears.
Rain clouds.
Every time I walk up the stairs, I look through the glass doors into his dark office.
Finally, a text comes through. I walk down the stairs to deliver the message. He clearly doesn’t understand what I am saying. No sympathy, no compassion. I feel my anger rising. Why do I need to keep repeating myself? Figure it out.
Six girls. Two more than last week. Six more than a year ago.
They lost by three points. “It’s okay. They will beat them in the tournament when they get to high school,” I say.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Three
At least there is only one kid to take to school today.
Tumbler from the hippy lady playing God music in her garage.
I’m telling her what I was told, and we’re trying to figure out what it means or how they meant it.
So many lies in so little time.
We test my cuff, and it is, of course, very high. She does a manual reading, places her stethoscope against the crease of my elbow. She is only a few numbers off the machine reading. We decide it’s close enough to use as a monitor for the upcoming weeks.
Greek salad.
First in his group; 39th out of 712. Never ceases to amaze me.
I am standing in between the stacks, head tilted, reading the spines. Out the corner of my eye I see the library walk by. She backpeddles and reminds me that I have a book on hold. I am startled at first but then realize she must recognize me from the article.
Already sweating.
I would like to be sitting across from her again, digging my spoon into her apple crisp.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-Two
A Tuesday that feels like a Monday.
She says she’s not feeling well. I am annoyed.
She takes my blood pressure three times - twice with the machine and once by hand to confirm. I hear the Physician’s Assistant exclaiming. I know that it’s high, the highest I’ve ever seen, but I’ve never heard anyone get that upset.
“What’s going on?” So much is going on, but I don’t think this is the place, nor do we have enough time. I need to come back in two weeks.
I know the things that need to be done. I just need to take the time to do them.
A text message with a positive Covid test.
A text message that another child threw up and is being picked up from school.
A steady flow.
It is clear to me that there is some kind of narrative being spun, and it is based on lies. I tell her how she said to me on the phone before this all happened that sometimes “the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.”
I miss The Dolphin House.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty-One
The first light creeping through the lacy curtains.
I don’t want to leave my friends. This is the first and only thing I am thinking when I open my eyes.
Salami and cheese and fruit for breakfast. Coffee with almond/oat creamer. Looking out at the sky waiting for the fog to back off so I can see the water.
We squeeze out another thirty minutes before check-out. Goodbye, Dolphin House.
One last meal by the water: open-face BLT with sweet, blood-red tomatoes. French fries. Laughter. A few bites of an apple crisp.
She says she’s not feeling well and that her one friend has Covid. Here we go again.
I head straight to the scissors and the bathroom to begin my hair. It is an excuse for extended quiet time. For more time to process and think and breathe.
It’s as if every single thought is trying to squeeze itself into a tiny rectangle right in the front of my brain where it wants to be seen and felt all of the time.
I miss my friends.
A million gratitudes for all that is and all that wants to be.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twenty
Not ready yet.
Someone is already making coffee. I cut up the strawberries and fill my bowl with fruit. I stare out at the gray misty skies and wonder if we will be blessed by sunshine again.
Feelings that I can’t describe.
I try to make the words come, but they don’t. It’s okay. The words coming from their mouths are more important anyway.
A love/hate relationship with Highway 1.
I keep taking pictures even though I know there is no way I will be able to capture what my eye sees: the color of the water, the way the fog hugs the bluffs, the pelicans, the seaweed churning.
A warm ham and cheese sandwich, greens, tomato soup - the best meal of the weekend.
We keep walking.
He says it will only take 10 minutes. I do not believe him.
She lights candles and brings them to the table. We eat our chips and salsa and tacos, drink our Joel Gott Sauvignon Blanc by candlelight.
I just want to be soft.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Nineteen
Early to rise.
I am awake. I am here. I am so glad I am here with them.
Trying to find the ocean through the clouds.
I make a list of all the things I think I used to be that I want to be again.
The playlist is upbeat but also relaxing. I keep my eyes open, stare up at the ceiling, stare out at the ocean.
Oysters.
The sun. I tell them that yesterday, on my drive up, I decided to manifest some sunshine. There will be sun on this trip. And here it is.
Bathrooms with no sinks. Hot sand. Hot sun. The sounds and smells of the ocean. I don’t think this will ever get old.
I am tired, but I am thinking about how much I will miss this.
I start to close the window, and something jumps through the cracks right as I begin to close it. A small tree frog. I call to her for help, get a glass to try and trap him. He is fast. I cannot sleep if we do not find him.
Can I stop time?
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighteen
Today is the day. I am already counting down.
The universe has a way of sending you signs. The more they are repeated, the more you must listen.
I want more. And more.
Move past the pleasantries. Get the thing done.
On her playlist: Tame Impala, Kanye, The Smiths.
I stand in the street and jump up and down. We are here. We are here together.
We are not good navigators but we’ve made it over the dunes to the ocean. There is no one here but us.
Danucci’s. 4.5 stars. The place you go when it’s time to celebrate a birthday. I ask her how long she thinks it’s been since the merch cabinet has been opened.
Maybe I am just more confused.
An awakening.
The tears will come at some point.
I am wherever you are.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Seventeen
I hear footsteps, but it’s dark. They are small feet. Who is in here?
No sense in going back to sleep now.
Coffeecake from the box. The big one lumbers across the hall to our bathroom. He looks better, I think?
Late.
I don’t know anything, either.
“Everything under control?” I look them dead in the eye and say, “yes,” with a little bit of a chuckle. I’m not the one they should be worried about.
Today is going to be a long day.
I thought we had fixed this in 8th grade.
She calls because she has a sneaking suspicion that I’m being kept in the dark. She is right.
I begin to wonder if I’ve said too much, but then I think of how important it would have been for me to have had someone speak to me so honestly at that age.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixteen
Looks like a fire sky.
Coconut MCT.
Is too much daydreaming dangerous? It’s dangerous not to daydream at all.
Another sick day is not worth arguing about. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a big deal. I am more concerned about what others may think than what makes sense.
Nothing.
Essentially I tell him I’m going to give him the gift of time, but he’s probably not going to use it.
We all make eye contact. Did we all hear the same thing?
I tell her she might want to consider another training video.
He squirts lighter fluid over a pile of wood. People take turns using the extinguisher to put out the fire. We joke that it’s a no burn day. Didn’t I say it looked like fire in the sky.
Two more days.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifteen
Tuesday.
I found the frother.
He tells me he isn’t feeling well. I tell him to get in the shower. He tells me he threw up. I tell him to get in the shower. He tells us he’s still feeling bad. I tell him to get in the bed.
I call her as soon as I get into my office. We don’t have four hours, but we have enough time to make it meaningful.
They get me.
Like toy soldiers.
At least there is this to look forward to.
Familiar faces. Not enough time to talk between the bells. The setting sun. They say they are sweating from the air horn. We step in time. I am imagining things. I am not imagining things.
Two helpings of chicken pot pie.
“I'm waking up/I can feel it all/I'm waking up/I can breathe, I can love for you?/But I know that you want me too/I feel it burn/I feel it burn.”
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fourteen
Special delivery day.
No fog, just sun.
The gift of a few extra minutes, though he is missed.
I didn’t expect anything different.
Lies.
I tell her the day has gone by so quickly, too quickly. I’ve been counting too much time.
Hot.
We have come to the same conclusion: they aren’t worth the stress.
A wave of nervousness washing over me. Where has the confidence gone?
Now or never.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Thirteen
So tired.
Fully dressed but reading in bed.
Remembering left items: a trophy; a baking dish; sunglasses; two computers; four camping chairs; a cooler full of beer. At least it’s a short walk over.
But does she remember she invited us over for pizza?
Where’s season two?
Hot.
She wants all the things to make tofu soup.
She sends a picture of the four of them. He has on a button-up shirt. He must have bought that when they went thrifting. They are all smiling. it was a good idea, after all.
I go for a regular old pepperoni and cheese, and drink the Houndstooth 2016 Pinot Noir.
Tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Twelve
She texts to say she’s sick and needs to cancel. Secretly grateful.
But I can’t go back to sleep, so I lay in bed with my eyes closed, waiting to feel the light return.
Back to these late nights.
Already time to get him out the door and on our way.
The airport reminds me of KCI twenty years ago. Or Chattanooga today.
He gives us a noncommital wave with his back to us as he walks through security.
Hot.
I just want Patrick Mahomes.
Draft day. Ribs and tri-tip and sausage rolls and wings and pasta salads and salads and brownies and cookies. I wonder what the new guy thinks of us. Hopefully, all good things.
Oh shoot, it’s already after midnight.