Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Five
This morning is better than yesterday.
I have to take a break helping him to make sure everyone else is awake.
Preparation.
New plans need to be made.
Here comes the rain again.
Candles lit. Clouds gray. House quiet.
This weekend: switch their rooms so that he is on the main level and won’t be tempted to use the stairs on his own.
More water.
Off-menu-local-type things.
“But I feel primed for success.”
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Four
Is it the coffee? I already know the answer.
I rub my eyes and say that it’s just early. I am being patient.
They point to two trees that will need to come down. They are tall, maybe 30 or 40 feet and so big there is no way I can wrap my arms around them.
I wonder what got that bird. I follow the trail of feathers.
A butterfly. And another. Three butterflies. One butterfly smushed against the asphalt.
I sit in the car and watch a handful of them throwing a ball around in the field. I’d rather he be here than at home sitting. The fresh air does everybody some good.
A good day to take a walk.
I’m a fast writer, but I need to be faster today.
I want a good meal, so I decide we’ll have risotto with salmon. More creamed spinach since it’s the only way to get them to eat it. It is worth the 30 minutes of stirring. And I timed it perfectly so that everything on the plate is still warm. It’s the little things on days like these.
Just a little more time. Please.
Ten.One Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Three
Forgot to meditate.
Thick fog. Thicker than yesterday. Loud birds. Louder than yesterday.
Finally got the oat milk to foam.
She’s wearing my jeans again.
I didn’t even see her, but she apologizes to me. She thought it was her car. She looks confused. I am just listening to everyone else on the call, wishing I had picked a different part of the parking lot to sit in because I am covered in sunlight and starting to sweat.
He shows me a picture of the image, and you can see a chunk of bone that’s separated from the head of the humerus. No driving. No traveling. No using the hand on that arm at all, they say.
I eat my lunch and think that I should be more stressed out about this than I am.
I had forgotten how good some of the lines are in the song: “Cause it's a hindrance to my health / if I'm a stranger to myself.”
I might need that month off after all.
I should have taken my walk today.
Ten.One Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Two
Thick fog and bird chirps.
Bacon and potatoes. He makes toast instead.
The Spotify DJ says it’s going to play a mix of what I usually listen to on Tuesdays. He turns down the Britney Spears as we pull into the school parking lot.
I look down at my text messages during the meeting. He says he’s in the ER. Fell at the gas station. I know exactly what happened. I think back to my high school science teacher and her two broken arms.
Today’s lunchtime walk is less bitter than yesterday's.
A cluster of poppies, open and bright and alive.
Not enough time today.
Can I hop the fence? I can’t hop the fence. She laughs at me. I hop the fence.
I’ll figure it out.
“Have an ambition.”
Ten.One Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-One
5:30 he said. He will be up soon, too.
Why is everyone always eating their breakfast in the car?
“I did learn something,” he says. “What’s that?”
Poppies.
I tell her that it’s very bitter today.
Black-eyed Peas. I am transported back to the Express in the Overland Park Mall. The store manager is of below-average height for a man with short blond hair, glasses, and braces. He asks me why I didn’t have any credit card sales that day. I tell him I don’t believe in pushing debt onto people. I laugh. I guess I’ve always been a bit defiant. Random memories.
3:30 p.m. - 6:30 p.m. 3:45 p.m. - 5:15 p.m. 5:15 p.m. - 7:15 p.m. Somewhere in between all of this I will make dinner.
So. many. words.
“Phenomenological.” I count the syllables on my hand.
Just a few bites.