Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Forty-One

1. I know I need to get up soon.

2. Wind blowing through the trees. The sound of pine cones and branches hitting the roof and pine needles blowing across the decks.

3. Fifty-seven degrees inside the bedroom. Tall socks and leggings and sweater.

4. Staring up at the ceiling, I search the corners for spiderwebs illuminated by the morning light.

5. I can’t remember the last time I was here, but it still feels familiar enough: the flat roads, the brown hills, the dusty air, the sprawl.

6. Key lime pie.

7. He wants me to retest him. He wants to move back into his room.

8. He calls it “community grilling.” I dig.

9. Take me back to the ocean.

10. I know what I’m doing to myself. I know I’m going to regret it. But I also know I’ll get it all done.

Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Forty

1. If only I could really sleep in.

2. I open the curtains to find the sea. I watch the waves rolling in and admire the colors of the sky.

3. Decaf in a paper cup. The smell of the ocean air. Firm sand. The sound of waves crashing on the shore. You still get the same layers of watercolor-sky. I could stay here forever.

4. Plank Coffee. Cloverdale. How come everyone else’s downtown is so much better?

5. I think this woman has sold me game tickets before.

6. Warmer and warmer and warmer. Tame Impala.

7. More tired than yesterday and the day before yesterday and the day before that. What keeps me awake?

8. Never taking for granted how much I enjoy coming home.

9. Fifty-nine degrees inside.

10. Still sleeping.

Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Thirty-Nine

1. Not today.

2. The pattern is not worth repeating.

3. “Don’t confuse movement with progress.”

4. Thirty-eight degrees. I need some gloves.

5. There’s a point where you’re driving up the 101, and the landscape shifts quietly. The rolling hills turn into steeper terrain and the oaks give way to large redwoods. The sky is clearer, too. Thin. Piercable.

6. I think of how she told me that I love it here. That I can’t leave.

7. Protein style. Add ketchup and mustard and grilled onions.

8. But at least there is this.

9. I tell him that lately, as we travel to these away games, all I can think of is my upcoming season and long treks. What will be different this year?

10. A thin coat of moisture on everything. Cold feet and cold hands. Layers and layers. An almost full moon.

Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Thirty-Eight

1. Turtleneck weather.

2. I tell her that maybe I should stop making my appointments with her right before I go to work.

3. But the extra things I do are the things that feel purposeful and excite me. But I know what she means. She means I need to do less.

4. I ask her for a few masks before we get back in the car. He slides into the back seat and apologizes. Thank goodness we got those shots.

5. This might have actually been productive.

6. The rooms are non-refundable. And who’s going to take the stats? Might as well make the best of it. Daydreaming about coffee overlooking a stormy sea.

7. Hot tea all day. Cold, cold, cold.

8. Four days.

9. Someone has removed the rumble strips.

10. Orange and brown and yellow leaves scattered about. Rock walls and sandy dirt and pits in the pavement. Evening light dappling the vines below. One burst of red tucked between rows and rows of leaves.

Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Thirty-Seven

1. Cold. Two layers of sweaters.

2. He’s the only one with a weak stomach.

3. Marigolds drying out on my desk. October is quickly slipping away.

4. Staying away from the coffee, but this kind of weather begs for a cup + frothy oat milk.

5. She makes me laugh, and for that, I am grateful.

6. Two times in one week! They both say. Three times in a meeting with him, and it’s only Wednesday. Maybe we are all doing too much.

7. I trust her.

8. I knew this day was coming. So many giggles. Crushes on the big brother. He has no clue.

9. Tight games. A good loss. It’s almost our turn.

10. How do you do that all day?