Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-One
Needed that.
Waffles and bacon. Giggles at the table while they eat.
I finally find a copy of the latest issue. I scan the table of contents to find the spread, even though I know I will never reread what I wrote. I just like to have it in hand.
Am I trying too hard?
I reread his text and decide I’m going to ignore it. Maybe I’ll get over it. Maybe I won’t.
He tells him to head south because he doesn’t want him to cross the bridge. Yellow leaves and wet pavement and gray sky. The weight of everything.
But would it be the worst thing?
I know what the gaps are. The question is how to get them filled.
The exact kind of Saturday I needed.
I think of how she asks me what I want my title to be. What the next thing is. My instinct is to say nothing. I don’t want a title of any kind. I just want to be me.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty
Game day. Red-and-white-hair-tie-day.
He gets into the driver’s seat, checks his mirror, connects his phone to the Bluetooth. I look off in the distance and see the hot air balloons sitting low on the horizon.
Not as scary as I thought it would be. I do my work emails and basketball posts while he drives.
Success.
We talk about possibilities, where we feel expansion, about reframing our relationships with time, about the magic connections we can have with teenagers, about meaningful work.
In the note, she says that she thinks I’m an interesting person. It makes me smile. I lean my head against the window and listen to the rain.
No energy. They have no energy in their face.
1-1.
Chicken tenders and sweet potato fries, a vanilla milkshake with rainbow sprinkles.
The audacity of his text message after all of that.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Nine
No pants.
I make a full pot but forget that I’m meeting someone for coffee, so I didn’t need any of this.
Yogurt with a bunch a dried unsweetened coconut flakes.
“Less but more perfect.”
He says that it is a beautiful morning. It is a very beautiful morning. He reminds me that the rain is coming.
Irritated by the rub.
I talk out all the things and she said I did a great job and sometimes I think you just need to hear that from someone who doesn’t know you.
You always hope that you’re doing the right thing.
I get out of the car and walk myself to the passenger side. “He’s driving now!” I yell to him. “Take care of your mother!” he says.
“I prefer her.”
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Eight
Game day.
Black dress seems right for today.
A missed connection.
Something about the way these sentences fall out of their mouth affirms that this isn’t right for me.
But this pumpkin creme brulee.
The click-clack of my boots against the cold pavement. Brown and yellow leaves and moisture in the air. No sun. Fall.
She asks me how I’m feeling. I tell her I’m always nervous on game days. That I felt like I wanted to throw up after I crossed the Pope Street bridge. How many years do I have to do this before I stop feeling nervous?
I misinterpreted all of the noise. Too close. Too close.
Yeah. I have a good feeling about this year. 1-0.
Forgot about these sleepless nights.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Fifty-Seven
A little bit of rain.
The coffee is calling to me. Half hot oat milk and half coffee. That will be okay, won’t it?
Red and white sweater. Lucky sweater? First game for the younger girls. Can. not. wait.
She’s real, and that’s what I like about her. An hour well spent before heading into the office.
At least she makes me laugh.
I never expected to see that email.
Need to make our layups.
I change out of my sweaty basketball clothes and back into my work clothes before walking into the gym to sit beside her on the bench. I scan the bleachers and count pairs of parents, people who look like they might be related. I think I see more than I’ve ever seen.
9-0 at the half. A win. Their first win. A great way to start the season.
He meet him the hallway. He’s still dressed in his whites. I look up at him and say, “You had a pretty great day today. Drove a car for the first time and played in your first Varsity game. Not a bad day at all.” A little chuckle and a smile. Kinda all I hope for these days - a smile.