Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eight
Day 1.
I gaze across the valley and set my eyes on the eastern ridge. I wish someone would just cut down those tall skeletal trees, those ghostly remains.
“This won’t last forever, but it’s wonderful while it’s happening.”
I look at my watch and realize it’s already after 9 o’clock. I am late.
I tell her that no, I have not yet found my Julie or Gracie or Cynthia.
He looks normal. Better than normal?
He introduces himself and says they will be coming to all of the games. That makes my heart happy.
A basket full of marinated meats and a block of maple walnut fudge.
He reminds me that it’s still early in the 5-year plan. All good things take time.
It’s still 94 degrees outside.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Seven
This low fog is a gift before the heat dumps in.
You don’t have to force it.
Both things can be true at once.
They sit down to eat bagels with cream cheese and watch X-Files.
These potatoes are really good: seasoned, and soft, and crunchy.
I forget that the bottle is sitting there and accidentally knock it off the chair. Green glass everywhere. The last little sludge of wine is deep, almost black against the dark slate tile.
No shade. The fronts of my legs are burning. I should have worn shorts. Maybe.
A few things about this: 1. These opponents are notorious for their poor sportsmanship. 2. It’s hot and that means it’s anger is easier to access.
But I would have wanted to punch him, too.
What is within my realm of influence?
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Six
I miss those gladiolas.
The words, “you’re right,” escape from between my lips. But he is. Probably.
My body is not listening to my mind. My feet keep walking toward the coffee machine even though I know I shouldn’t have anymore.
Maybe this is my own version of a midlife crisis.
…a bias towards action.
Embrace.
The little things that add up into big things if you don’t fix them now.
In one take.
You’re only nervous because you care.
“Who I am transcends what I am.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Five
The weird thing about summer is sometimes not knowing what day it is.
I am having another coffee because it’s there and I will fall asleep if I don’t.
Just three of us for lunch at the picnic table. I try to warm my legs on the little bit of bench lit by the sun.
We laugh about Crocs and how awful they were when they originally came out. And how it’s so uncool to wear socks with them.
Snack shack garlic fries and cold ankles.
She tells me that she thinks I can do it. I almost start to say something about how many signs I’m being given from the universe.
Less. More.
Three times during warm-ups he says.
No really, I won’t have any more after today.
That full moon.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Four
The color of the sky.
Bits of ash fall onto the windshield. He asks if it’s pollen. No. It’s from the fires.
I can see for myself how much greater the range of motion is in his hip. It wasn’t all for nothing. He calls someone as soon as we walk out of the hospital.
That feeling when you take the time to learn a new tool and then implement that tool successfully, only to know that you are the only person in the company who will probably ever use it because user adoption in traditional business settings is always so slow.
“An invitation.”
Maybe the time is right right now. What does my gut say?
An order of n95s.
As long as there’s enough food to go around.
He’s talking about dunking in tomorrow’s scrimmage. Oh, boy.
I watch Drag Race All-Stars and make twists while he watches clips of 2012 NBA finals games on his phone. “Who was better? Tony Parker or Manu?” he asks. “They’re different. They complemented one another. I don’t know if it’s fair to say one was better.”
“Sometimes you forget how many good players there were back then.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Three
Monday, Monday, Monday.
I don’t think there will be a problem.
Not enough time to make him bacon, so we settle for smoothies with a little bit of protein powder.
It’s the little things.
Progress.
I can’t get over the bridge. I can, I can.
We all have hard things going on. We can feel like the only ones in the world.
Second at bat. Thwack. All the way to the top of the fence. Inches away from a home run. He’s not gonna believe it’s because I made him hit off the tee.
It’s official.
Wild-fire-sunsets.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Two
Wanna stay here a little longer. I don’t think I really need to get out of this bed.
“Weekly meal plan without nuts for a football player that needs to gain two pounds per week.”
Grocery lists.
Buster’s BBQ. Charles is sitting outside like always. Three-rib plate with a double side of baked beans. Shaded picnic table.
A little bit of wine with an ice cube. I lean against the railing and look through the trees
She seems to be really stuck on the fact that she called her “elitist.” “It’s not like I ordered a steak dinner.”
This summer is going to be different.
The sound of the wind through the trees.
It will be okay.
This persisting feeling that something else needs to change.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & One
Four missed calls at 5:30 a.m.
I cancel our practice—again. I could have really used it.
It could have been worse.
I will get those webs down somehow, at some point.
It only took me until the last two weeks of the session to be ahead on my reading.
If he were home, I would have called him for coffee and a chat.
A block of maple walnut fudge. Slice by slice. That kind of day.
Is this the bottom?
The gladiolas are starting to wither, but they are still beautiful.
Thank goodness it’s only Saturday.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred
Not enough sleep.
Another cool, gray morning. A sweater over the tank top.
Some of these plants are, dare I say, thriving.
85%. But what about the other 15%?
I gotta stop watching this.
Forks up.
Life’s problems don’t change, but sometimes they are easier to deal with in 80 degrees, sunshine, and an hour’s drive from the beach.
She asks us if we work together. We say we used to. We’re not far, but no longer as close. Picpoul, tartare, salmon, grilled bundt cake.
The back deck is shaded. I am tired. I try to read but I can’t keep my eyes open. I close them. The birds are chatty this afternoon. There is a gentle breeze. I had forgotten how much I love these kind of summer afternoons.
She comes back tonight.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Nine
The gray skies are comforting.
No more peanut butter and chocolate protein shakes. No more avocados. I settle for oatmeal with dried cherries.
She says they’re at the capital today. That Trump is supposed to be there.
If I don’t dance at my desk, I will fall asleep.
“Just bored,” I say. “Just bored.”
Something about all of this feels kind of silly to me. But it’s beeter than what I dealt with before.
Parking lot conversations. It’s cooler than I thought it would be. Sour Cream and Onion chips.
A kick of wind and a broken glass.
Glowing gladiolas.
How seriously should I take this?
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.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Three
Like clockwork.
I feel hungover, but I think it’s just an emotional thing.
Seems so much cooler this morning. That should make things easier today.
I'm grateful for a few more moments to drink my coffee. Then I remember that I need to check my work emails because it’s not Saturday; it’s only Friday.
I watch them throw tulle through the arms of the posts, and it brings a smile to my face. The hardest part is over. We did it.
Cobb salad and emails and sunshine interrupted by laughter. I haven’t really eaten in three days.
“thank you for the dance i had a lot of fun.”
The five of us not sitting in the baseball stands.
I wish I could have bottled up those feelings.
A tour of gratitude.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety-Two
Today’s the day.
They all stop in front of the bench for the obligatory last-day-of-school photo without any complaint. Growth in different ways.
The last school drop-off with everyone in the car.
He’s awfully friendly for so early in the morning, but it’s a good way to start the day.
Balloons, cotton candy, popcorn, hamburgers, hot dogs, shaved ice. Twinkly lights. Summer breezes.
This might be the longest three hours I’ve had in a long time.
I think everyone is happy.
I keep losing my phone.
I tell her that I’m just so glad that I got to do it with them. The magic comes from the work of a good core crew.
32 minutes to take this test.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Ninety
Long but short.
You can tell by the way the morning sky looks that it’s going to be hot. You can see it, and you can feel it.
Don’t ask questions; express gratitude.
Taking in all of the beauty, trying to stay present, and not thinking about the emails that still need to be done.
Will I regret taking emails instead of taking a seat for lunch?
Water, water, and more water.
When it’s the end of the day, and the brain just isn’t working anymore. When you start to think that you must be going mad because nothing is making sense.
He seems happy, which makes me happy.
There is so, so much to do.
“I don’t know whether it was a divine stupidity or a great faith that made them do it…. It is argued that because they believed thoroughly in a just, moral God they could put their faith there and let the smaller securities take care of themselves as individuals, because they knew beyond a doubt that they were valuable and potentially moral units—because of these they could give God their own courage and dignity and then receive it back.” - East of Eden
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Nine
Monday. Last week of school.
Just one small cup. Or two.
The one morning they are actually on time is the day they don’t have to leave as early.
This dance is giving me nightmares.
Sometimes, you can feel the truth of it all in your bones.
“Look at a man the way he is and he only becomes worse, but look at him as if he were what he could be, then he becomes what he should be.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I run home to grab the boxes and see him walking up behind me. He says he has a two-hour lunch break. I want to stay and eat with him. For a moment, I panic. There are only two more years of this.
“…then you’d have more time to work on your writing,” she says. Another tug from the universe.
I'm kind of glad it’s a shorter work day than we anticipated, though it means there will be some heavier lifting in the coming days.
I reverse my walking route, and my legs certainly feel it. I don’t focus on the pace, just finishing. The gleaming flaxen light from the setting sun. Sweat dripping from beneath the brim of my hat. Gratitudes.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Eight
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Who’s texting this early? Oh, no. I need to switch them to the work phone ASAP.
I was right. I do like the way the light hits this little vase full of eucalyptus. I look forward to when the sun sets over the bunch of white peonies.
Just the two of us for practice today. I keep forgetting about those cobwebs. Everything is tight.
They want time in the gym. He shoots. She does volleyball drills. I answer more emails.
Laundry, laundry, and more laundry.
Feeling the heat.
I really only eat hot dogs in the summer, and they always taste so good.
One of the best things about summer is how you want to linger long after the party ends because the sun is still bright and the high heat of the day has just passed, and there’s still more wine and you’ve almost forgotten that tomorrow is Monday.
The last week.