Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-One
Gratitude for this slow morning.
I am falling asleep. He asks me if I need more coffee. It’s just that I’ve waited too long to start.
A flash of anger.
Overcast morning. Cold bleachers. More coffee.
Finally, some sun. So glad it’s still only Saturday. So worried by how frequently I tell myself how happy I am that it’s only Saturday.
I’m reminded of how he said that the thing about being public is that you’re public.
He says he needs to talk to someone before we leave.
To know it’s not just your imagination.
Unexpectedly child-free. Oysters Rockefeller. Seafood in brick pastry. Dolmas. Raspberry financier. Her name is Desire, and she’s from San Francisco. St. Helena is too hot for her—beautiful, but too hot.
There’s more work to do.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty
TGIF.
Scrambling to get as much clean as possible before we leave.
Oh. The high school, not the thrift store.
Is it mountains or clouds or smoke? Clouds.
Cool in the sun and in the shade for now.
Clear blue skies and gratitude. A sense of freedom. It’s only Friday.
“A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid anymore.” - East of Eden
Dogs barking. A chorus of weed whackers. The smell of grilled hamburgers and hot dogs.
Three 30-piece chicken nuggets. The young woman behind the counter tries not to laugh.
Clean sheets.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Nine
It still feels warm.
A pan of bacon, a bowl of eggs, a loaf of bread.
Another canceled meeting. That just means I can get through these emails more quickly.
The energy is just weird.
Pink crocs on dusty pavement. Up ahead is someone in a motorized chair and a woman is walking beside her. They pause and look up at a tree before starting again. A man is watering a small patch of flowers at the front of his driveway. We both smile and nod at one another. The horizon is hazy, like vintage film. It’s probably haze from a fire. Vineyards and fruit trees and the quiet.
I should do this more often.
He says I frowned when I said her name. “I did? I hate that I don’t have a poker face.”
I had promised myself I would practice a different response.
He exchanges the fudge.
They do always say “thank you,” but this time he also gives me a hug.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Eight
Thursday. No. Wednesday.
Warm morning. Warm light. Warm cup of coffee.
I start to make my way over the bridge and notice the way the sun is coming through the trees. The water is still, though I can hear the murmur of the fountain. This is the enchantment they keep talking about.
And done on time. The heat is coming.
Home for lunch. Tri-tip and Caesar salad and a glass of water. A little bit of decompression.
I’m not supposed to be mad about it.
Sore all over, but it’s worth it.
I tell him that she and I are really the right kind of people for one another.
She is me, but also not me at all and it’s a wild thing to see.
Almost time for him to come home.
Perfect? No? Better than ever? Yes. I can see the light.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Eight
Why am I so hot?
Coffee in my chair instead of drop-off.
The usual walk toward the car, and a bird bursts from a tree, and then hundreds of bugs flit about. They look like miniature dragonflies but almost translucent.
Tuesday = loud.
Lunchtime escape. Dim sum and wine.
They say the very things we’ve been saying at home. If I could have recorded it. But it just affirms that we know what we know. We know what we know.
I take my call outside on the dusty picnic table. It’s 101 degrees but bearable in the shade. The honk of the wine train
Found another one.
No one knows what to do with me.
“May your private expounding carry the fullness of these insights. Remain vast, steadfast, and trustworthy.”