Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Three
Morning light
Back to avocado. I probably need some protein.
Another cobweb.
Almost four years with her. Almost four years here in this house. It seems like we’ve been here so much longer.
I sit in the chair facing the sun. It’s still cool enough to drink coffee while I write. I love being home.
I recognize these feelings.
I help her figure out how to lock the cabinet again. She clearly has never done this before.
“I am the source of time.”
He says he’s not nervous or worried. I am only a little worried. He will be fine. He’s always fine.
It’s going to be a weird week.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Two
Grateful for an extra day and plenty of time to ease into it.
I try to remind myself that this is normal. I don’t have to like it, but it is normal.
Pages and pages.
I think we’re both tracking our hike on our watches.
Turns out I’ve been trying to cross at the wrong junction this entire time.
He shows me a patch of blackberry to keep my eye on. I pop one into my mouth, but it is still too tart.
What was I thinking - going out to lunch on a Saturday afternoon during peak season?
Receptive, maybe?
“…to stretch out my hands and feel no walls…”
If this idea works, then I think it will really change my life.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-One
What day is it?
Electrolytes and oatmeal and a few small cups of coffee.
It’s supposed to be cool, but in this sun, it feels like it’s already 100.
Already craving another day at the beach.
Yikes.
Two small fires nearby. You can hear the planes and helicopters. I really need to stock up on water and check the generator again.
PB & Js and chips.
He leaves in just a few short days. His last summer before high school. I tell him I’m sure his grandparents are so excited for him to come soon. This is the beginning of an end.
Is anything sinking in?
Too many ideas.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty
Beach day.
Summer ‘24 playlist.
That feeling when you break through the trees and the ocean comes into view.
No cell service is precisely what you need.
I learn a little more about myself every time, and that’s a good thing.
I stuck two books and a journal in my purse with the best of intentions, but I just lay on my back and close my eyes, legs in the sun, face in the shade.
He says I’m not stressed when I’m at the beach. How could you be?
When can we do it again?
Last-minute eats and drinks with friends while the kids are out playing around. No fireworks, but they seem to have made their own fun.
Yes, more of this, please.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Nineteen
Long summer nights = short summer sleeps.
So glad this year’s sheep dog is quiet and that the coyotes haven’t made it into the pens.
The light, the light, the light.
I try to take the call outside, but the sun is already melting everything, so instead, I hide inside the conference room, and for a few minutes, it’s like the old days.
Three chocolates before 10 a.m.
This guilty feeling.
Massican Annia. Baby gem with beets and carrots. Gnocchi with oyster mushrooms and asparagus. Lemon tart and an americano.
The thing is, I don’t think anyone knows anything.
Constantly rubbing my eyes.
But she really does have the best playlists though.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighteen
+4
Really need to get this car washed.
The last bit of protein powder for the smoothies.
Glistening gossamer between the leaves of the manzanitas. I think of the book I used to read in the alcove of the house in Oswego—The Keeper of the Bees—and how I would daydream about the jacarandas.
Progress but not perfection.
I check the app to see where the fire is and then write down the name of our evacuation zone so that I can commit it to memory. It feels like I’m going to need to know this.
Not sure I feel any better. Maybe less confused. Maybe more confused.
“The two of you set things on fire.”
A little bit of baseball on a hot summer night.
“Who was that guy that got kicked out of the game?” “Your eye doctor.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Seventeen
+3
Already too warm for me.
Never not grateful for this sight that greets me on my way down the stairs.
The feeling of knowing what you need and anxiously trying to figure out how to get it.
Seeing your own changing face.
It’s half over.
If nothing else, it is cool and quiet in here. Sometimes too quiet, even for me.
Bigger than my body.
A preview of what is to come. Trying not to count my chickens before they hatch. Calling this feeling not stress, but awareness and care. And hope? I care so much and see the possibility so vividly that I can’t bare for it not to come to pass.
Really gotta get this headshot done.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixteen
+2
Really needed that extra hour of sleep.
Hair day.
Queenie. I start to judge my emotional reactions and then remember that good art makes you feel, that engaging with any artistic work is going to elicit a response.
They say that the goats are loud. They are. This is a whiny bunch.
I shouldn’t be cold but I grab a blanket and throw it over my legs, and then my arms.
Just one more day? Just one more day.
A new 5-year plan.
Lamb chops.
I stare at all of them the same way. A mixture of awe, fear, curiosity.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifteen
+1
Slow Saturday.
I go a little further on the trail this time, climb more and more of the dirt stairs cut into the hillside. The views from here are worth the extra effort. I’m still too afraid to walk the whole loop alone.
The gift of grocery pick-up and delivery.
I should have made time for the beach.
She reminds me that we’re supposed to be reading the book about rest, which is ironic because right now, I am trying to rest and feeling guilty about it.
I sit and write. It is mostly groupings of unanswered questions.
“Let it be a love letter to California.”
This is Sunday-after-church macaroni-and-cheese.
“The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it.” - Incubus
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fourteen
This light.
The last avocado.
I don’t even need this coffee.
It’s already hot.
She stops and pulls a candle out of her pocket. “We’re not going to light it. We don’t want to be responsible for the great White-Sommer fire of 2024.”
Fried chicken and cornbread. They say it’s good, but Popeye’s is just as good and cheaper. “I’m not driving to Vallejo for fried chicken.”
Another convert?
“To achieve happiness, you must know yourself.”
“Don’t let me buy that fudge again.”
I tell her it feels like a magic number.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirteen
Not sure why I even bought pants. I never want to wear them.
Small cup of coffee.
“Freedom begins when you are unapologetically and simply you.”
I look through the stack of books and pick the thinnest one. Just a few pages before I must go.
This is the last time I will have to do this. Hopefully.
She says it’s been slow—scary slow. I can feel it. Plenty of cars passing through, but there are no people on the street. Everyone knows there is a problem. No one seems to be able to fix it.
Sometimes wisdom looks like knowing when to keep your mouth shut.
I still don’t know what I want.
Fever and Storm.
Just take me to the water.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Twelve
A Wednesday that feels like it should be Friday.
Bright sun.
The gladiolas are starting to dry out.
At least that is over with.
One by one they begin to cancel. I should just do all of this from home then.
Screw it. I’m bringing back the Oxford comma.
I tell her that I need until September to be in full-court shape. Note to self: get in full-court shape.
Sometimes you just need to know you’re not alone.
This lingering light is fooling me. I am staying up way past my bedtime.
The Finer Things Club.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eleven
Did not expect the gray sky.
What is right and necessary?
The joy of realizing it’s wint-o-green and not peppermint.
Off and I can feel it. I’ll come around.
You can be glad that it’s over and sad that it happened.
It’s the uncertainty of it all.
I sit back in the chair and watch the ripples in the fountain. The music is loud. People playing corn hole. People playing soccer. Tug-o-War. Just enough cloud cover to diffuse the sun. A breeze.
But all I can see are the highlighted squares in that Figma spreadsheet.
Four is always the minimum and that makes four.
No words. No words. No words.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ten
Too warm.
This feeling feels familiar.
More gladiola blooms bursting.
I forgot to water the plants again.
A cookie from Capri and Camarones Al Mojo De Ajo.
I guess I was wrong about that and many other things.
I don’t know where I stand yet.
A much-needed distraction.
He asks us about open gym. She says it looks like I missed it. She’s right. I forgot how much I enjoy being there. I just needed to laugh.
What else is there to say?
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Nine
Quiet.
I make sure to get the cobwebs before I lay on my back again in Savasana.
The short walk turns into a longer hike—steps and more steps. On the way back, I pick the most recently liked songs: July, II Most Wanted, Too Sweet, Lose Control. I spot a former colleague in the cart. He tells me he could hear me singing and to keep singing. I walk back home with the water, only a little embarrassed.
These gladiolas.
The last chapter.
Even though I get a little nervous with each fall, he clearly feels so much better. You can tell by how he is playing. He looks happy.
Ok. Maybe it will come together as intended.
I want a nap. I really want a nap. No time.
I just need one more day.
“I think you’re too nice.”
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.”