Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Six
4:08 a.m.
That was not a good sleep.
Maybe if I write about it, I will feel better.
I write about it. I feel better. The light filtering through the morning fog gives the room a soft glow.
Avoiding the real work by making homemade tomato soup and croutons. Getting that done will help me write better, right?
Sales calls.
I tell her the contents of the last 16 hours of my days, and she is aligned. So grateful that we get each other. What would I do without her?
Always the same.
He asks me if it’s homemade. I tell him it is. “Why,” I ask. “It tastes really good.” And that one comment is why the procrastination was worth it.
Two days.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Five
Tea, crisp morning air, the quiet.
A long walk with one of my favorite humans and their four-legged friend. The bright yellow leaves and the firm ground. A bright blue sky and streaky clouds.
He almost seems nervous that we’re here. He doesn’t know what to say.
What I really want to do is go to sleep, but I don’t think that’s the right thing to do.
I think he’s getting taller.
Just want to keep it positive.
That is not how I thought it was going to go. But I believe that we will make it work. I believe it’s going to be okay. Do I have any choice?
Did I take that blood pressure medication?
Reset.
Tomorrow. There is always tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Four
Practice day.
I don’t recognize who is he at first and then remember that he and I had a long chat one morning, last Saturday morning, waiting for the grocery store to open.
“Everyone is on time!”
I feel the focus. They are being the people they said they wanted to be.
She tells me it’s 9:30 and she has to go to work. I wrote a plan for two hours, not ninety minutes. Two hours is never enough.
Four days.
So. Freaking. Tired.
I bring all the things upstairs with me to bed even though I know I’m just going to fall asleep.
When he’s looking me in the eye, that’s when I know he’s listening, when what I’m saying is resonating. “You are the leaders now. This year wasn’t the only year. Next year could be the year, too, if that’s what you decide you want.”
Callings.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Three
I really need to sleep more.
Morning light. She reminds me that the Halloween candy is on sale; I should buy that instead.
I begin my setup: a table for the bagels and fruit and stickers. Large sheets of paper posted to the wall for the post-its. Pens and index cards. Team retreat day.
We read each others’ reasons for being here, our expectations of one another, our goals. The good news is that we are all here for the same reasons. We all want the same things. And if that is true, then we are halfway there.
They want more.
I pull the sheets of paper from the wall. I realize I am spending too much of my life not doing the right thing. This feels like the most right thing. I think this is my most right thing.
We stop in the olive grove and he asks me what I think. I don’t know what I think, but I know what I feel. I feel like I’m in some holy space, a magical place. I feel like I want to bottle up this feeling and have it forever.
I don’t want to make this call.
Clean bathrooms. Clean floors. Trader Joe’s frozen samosas. Not enough water.
Not how we imagined it would end.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Two
Only three hours. I will pay for this later.
Hot tea. Yelling goodbyes through closed doors.
The light is breathtaking. Everything is bright and alive.
I remember why I don’t drink coffee anymore.
One 90-minute meeting, and it feels like it’s 6:00 p.m., not 11:30 a.m. I really need more sleep.
And then, sometimes, small things happen to remind you that the bigger things are on their way.
I think he’s offering to be a mentor. I feel a little lucky.
Maybe it’s just going to be one of those seasons. But still, no negative parent emails yet, I tell her.
Yes, more of this, please.
These cookies are gross and disappointing. I can’t believe I stayed up an extra 22 minutes to make these.