Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Eight
I hope he remembered to take the trash out last night.
This summer schedule is looking weird.
I start to leave for work and glance back at the vase of gladiolas. They are glowing, and I want to stop and take a picture, but I decide I will remember it well enough.
“Come home to yourself.” - Co — Star
I’d rather he be social.
She texts me to say that the trip is good. That it is worth it and I should go next year. That the only problem she’s had is with the teachers. I laugh and laugh and laugh. She is not me at all.
Dinner for four is so much different than dinner for five.
Aisle seats.
“You ate that.”
The more I read, the more I realize how much more still needs to be explored.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Seven
Oh, wait. He still has football.
More, please.
This time, I remember to water the plants before I leave.
Forgot about all-stars.
He caught on. Yes, I am telling you to delete my personal phone number and use this one instead.
Even with the second coffee, I find myself having to scribble notes in my notebook to stay awake.
But there is ego involved.
I will get to it. But, you know. That was a long meeting.
The car's thermostat says 113 degrees, and it feels like 113 degrees. I peel off my sweater before I get into the car. The leather on the seat burns the back of my shoulder blades. I really ought to get a sunshade.
Trying to keep the bottle tightly closed.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Six
What is that sound? Oh, yes. I need to get up.
I decide to give them until 1:20 a.m. and then immediately regret it.
I will never be able to go back to sleep. I know it.
But I’d like to feel this way all of the time.
I take the cherry pitter out of my purse and laugh.
She sends me a picture of her holding up an “I (heart) D.C.” shirt on the bus.
I make the executive decision to put my jeans back on and work from home.
I put my shoes on and think to myself how grateful I am for what that place gave me: a few lifelong friends.
I’m pretty sure he hit something.
Sometimes, the right words are hard to find.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Five
A thin layer of orange sky.
Quiet and slow morning. Coffee first, then cleaning.
Loose incense.
This chapter is about boundaries. Some of these I’ve thought about, and some of these I have not.
Sun on legs.
Something about the look on her face. We grab a few slices of clam pizza and take a walk through the vineyards. Our feet are covered in dust.
She leans over me and places something into my hand. It’s a cherry pitter. She tells me not to give Jeff Bezos any more money.
The problem is that I believe in signs, so when they say that, it feels like some kind of confirmation.
Don’t lose your cool.
An alarm for 1:15 a.m.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Four
The soft tweeting of birds outside the window.
140mg.
The characteristically cloudy sky. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Baby screams. Their quiet chatter and giggles. Her summer playlist.
Spilled tomato soup.
I close my eyes and tilt my head toward the sun. I feel different.
A beautiful reflection.
Newfound freedoms and newfound stresses.
“You are all flowers in bloom.”
Something’s changed, and some things need changing.
Keep counting.