Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred
So tired.
Another fire? Yes, please.
Grateful for these moments.
I can’t read her, but I also can’t read myself at this moment.
I really need to work on my poker face.
He says that the move is scheduled for next Wednesday. I tell him I’m in no rush, but he says that it’s already on his calendar. The beginning of the end.
It's already time for another break.
A little bit of laughter goes a long way. I’m glad I somehow managed to lose my anger.
She says it’s not them but the people around them.
Is is possible to be afraid of winning?
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Nine
Is there still time for a fire?
Rain. The sound of a tile saw.
I look at the message and laugh and try to explain why it is so funny, but maybe you had to be there.
He knows who they are and even has an email address.
But could we not?
Called it.
Not enough butter.
How do we recover when we make a mistake?
But really, at the end of the day, if we fail, it is my fault. “Heavy is the head who wears the crown,” he always says to me.
And then you get a text that makes you think that maybe you’re wrong. That maybe you are still on the right path.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Eight
Monday.
I light a fire and decide that I will do as much work from in front of the hearth as possible.
Keep it short and sweet.
Telling the truth is easy.
There are so many more important things than this.
Tomato soup with parmesan and garlic bread.
If I could rewrite this story, what would I want to tell?
She tells me that she just deposited a lot of money. I ask her how much. “Someone sent a check for $5000,” she says. I say nothing. “You’ll have money left over after you buy your bags and warm-ups.”
They are being awfully nice and I think it comes down to these two things.
I tell them to thank anyone and everyone they see. To wear their school spirit with pride. Look at how much everyone believes in you, wants to support you.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Seven
Daylight.
Chai latte and an apple juice for me, an Americano for him.
I take sips and listen. I listen for what’s new. I listen for what affirms what I already know and have done and said. I listen to him tell me I’m on the right track and how all of this takes time. All good things take time.
Everyone is texting me sad face emojis about the announcement that she’s leaving. “But you probably already knew, didn’t you?”
Leftover crab cake for lunch, plus game prep.
The necessity of failure.
Dodgeball.
Hood Vocabulary.
When, not if.
Effort. Focus. Power.
Find the positive.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Six
4:48 a.m.
In the dream, I am trying to get an oil change from this man in a suburban neighborhood, but I keep driving from house to house. Everything feels weird and eerie and not right. It’s almost a nightmare, but not a nightmare.
It’s early enough for a fire and to cook the frozen quiche.
If you don’t have intergenerational friendships, are you even living?
He tells me I need to bring back some joy. He’s not wrong.
All the tile cutting but no music. Maybe someone complained about the country music.
I can’t wait for her to be free.
It’s because I can see it, and they can’t. And maybe they won’t. Not until they’re long gone, and they’ve lived more life and can place these moments into context.
He keeps trying to convince me that he can drive just fine with only one hand on the wheel.
I know myself.