Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Seven
Late start for him means a more relaxed pace for the morning.
It’s just because I really like where I live. That’s why I want to be here all the time. That’s not a bad thing. That’s a good thing.
I text him two and a half hours later to say that I’ve already completed my to-do list.
What else?
I’m a little early so I walk a bit of the vineyards beside the office. Small berries with green and purple skins. Big green leaves. Spiky straw sticks between the openings of my shoes.
I think this waiter is confused. I look familiar but the context is not the same.
I wonder if I am gushing too much about the past.
Yes. She’s right. Things can be different this year now that I have help.
It’s going to come quickly.
He’s right. I do like I did at the last place and just find my people.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Six
I could use one more day.
A big scoop of apple crisp and coffee.
Silverado trail on a Sunday morning. Sunlight brightens everything. Crawling vines. Golden-brown hillsides dotted with oaks. The struggling cyclist.
It’s always scary the first time.
He says she was more afraid of me than anything.
Yes. I’ll have to do this two more times.
I’m reminded of another goal.
17 years. Champagne and Burgandy and cherries jubilee. Look at how quickly the time has passed.
I stare out the window toward the west, toward the sunset, as we drive back home. I am delightfully full, and all I can say is, “So pretty. So pretty.”
And in bed by 8.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Five
If I don’t do it now, it won’t get done until it’s too late.
Whatever this was could not have been something small. Every Gatorade bottle is broken through. The bottom of the container is sticky from the mess.
Sweat pouring down my eyebrows.
Just. follow. the rules.
This is a longer drive than I thought it would be. The sun feels good on my legs. I can barely keep my eyes open.
This will be harder than I wanted it to be.
Inventoried and organized. Envisioning them
Keep it in check.
I should really water those plants.
Gratitude.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Four
Friday. Finally.
No football. No alarm.
Driving down Highway 29. Sunlight on the vines and the hazy morning sky. A line of redwoods. Coffee. Gluten-free coffee cake.
If anyone can do it, she can.
I thought this was brick?
Remember to take some time to dream.
Radio silence.
The answer is still “no.”
I don’t do this nearly enough. Yes, more of this, please.
The feeling of sliding into a clean, cool bed at the end of a long day.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Three
Thursday.
A few breaths out on the deck, watching a beam of sunlight squeeze between the trees.
A hummingbird just outside the window. Where did she come from? I have nothing here for her here.
I unpack my bag and realize that I left my thermos of coffee at home. Sometimes, you just want your drip, not a Nespresso.
What I like about peak season is being reminded of how lucky we are to live in a place that people want to come to for vacation. So I’ll be a little more patient while waiting at Gott’s. Only a little.
I probably sound confused.
But the snacks.
It’s perfect in the shade. A preview of what’s to come for the next several months.
They just want to be free.
“I trust myself.”