Ten. Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Eight
The color of the morning light this time of year and the way it casts a warm glow on everything.
Water. Hot tea. A page from Skylar’s book and a cup of bone broth.
I can’t find my rhythm.
The more I travel away from myself, the more anxious I am to return.
Freshman orientation. You always learn something new. Am I about to be a veteran high school parent now? Am I the one who now knows things?
90’s baggy jeans.
The answer is always the same.
I tell him that I’m just in a place where I realize that the time I have left with the kids is running out. Five years will go by quickly. I can sit in an office all day when they’re gone.
Second dinner. It’s definitely football season.
“If we are to learn anything, it would be to free ourselves from any beliefs or baggage or dogma that gets in the way of us acting according to our true nature.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Six
It’s only Tuesday.
2nd day of tryouts. Still no work computer. I promised myself that yesterday was going to be the last day of coffee.
She’s got COVID. An extra few minutes to sip that coffee I’m not supposed to be drinking.
Sometimes, I just can’t tell.
Changes that challenge.
“We are seeking not to define ourselves, but to expand ourselves, to tune in to our limitlessness nature and connections to all that is.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
No, that’s not a travel.
I ask if it’s weird that I’m so excited for her to start high school. It will be hard and challenging but also exciting.
Johnny Weir.
The time will pass anyway.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Five
One more week.
Bad length.
Third outfit change. Can’t get comfortable.
He says it. I hadn’t realized it. But it makes sense. “I’m getting older, I say.” She uses the word “perimenopause.”
Aaaaaaand there it is.
I somehow forgot that I had no computer. Sometime in the afternoon, they say. Oh, I need to go back home.
You have to put on pants for the eye doctor.
“Her mom said we look like twins with our hair pulled back.” “He said, ‘You look like your mom,’ when we were at Sunshine.” “I don’t see it.” “I don’t either.”
Everyone is so grown.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Four
Last day of camp.
Last-minute stop for donuts before the long ride over.
I set down my bags and lay a blanket on the grass, bees buzzing on clover, a gentle breeze blowing through the vines creeping along the building walls, pretending I am somewhere else. Pretending I am someone else.
“Art is about the maker. It’s aim: to be an expression of who we are.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
Or, I could just not have them.
Today is a much better day. The nerves have worn off, I think.
Someone says it smells like pasta. “I think that’s sweat.”
Sunday Scaries.
My head feels so much lighter.
One week.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Three
Camp day.
I get spooked for just a minute when I see “Oakville Grade” pop up on the screen.
I’m glad I took the scenic route.
“This place is not for me.”
I find a little wooden bench in the courtyard and journal before balling up my sweater and laying on my back. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face.
I wish I could do it over again.
Nothing that needs to get done is getting done. I could go home. I could run errands. But sometimes, the right choice is the choice that makes it hard for you to do anything else but sit.
There is a distinct smell to Panda Express.
That’s not true. You just work harder and try again. You can always try again. You never know what may happen.
Let’s do it again tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Three
TGIF.
Just can’t stop drinking this coffee.
Oh, it’s done. There’s no turning back from it now. In the fire.
Broken computer is a gift in disguise.
Well, I guess it’s a good thing we practiced this conversation this morning.
Tacos and sunshine.
It’s these little tastes that keep you hungry for more. A little is never enough.
Three weeks?
Putting a key, money, and trust in his hand. They’re both wearing the same Bulls jersey.
Ten minutes early, which means they are on time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Two
Breathing into the depths.
It's a jeans and a blazer kind of day.
But these Dot’s pretzels, though.
Fantasy Football group chats. And, so it begins.
He orders a milkshake, and I don’t say anything because it’s summer, and it’s just him, and why not? The gentleman behind the bar fills my glass a little above the line. I think of it as a loyalty perk.
I think about how I describe it as a Freudian slip. How I said, “You guys,” and how he said, “You mean, ‘we.’”
Why am I here?
I tell her that I believe in signs and this was one.
No. It’s just me. I’m the problem. I’m feeling my own existential angst.
The algorithm didn’t like that one.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-One
Deep breaths before kicking off the covers.
Taking in the morning. Hot coffee. Feet on wood. The quiet.
I should have just stayed home.
Sometimes, I say too little, and sometimes, I think I say too much. But this is all good.
Nine.
Writing and writing and rewriting. I think this makes sense.
The emperors have no clothes.
I do miss these people.
I tell her that we talked for two hours today because we hadn’t talked in five days.
Something about the waning light and the lush green of the ivy and the brick and the string lights.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty
He tells me to wait.
I tell her that this is a trend, and I leave it as is.
Yeah, I'm just stressed. He’s right. I'm anxious. I don’t want to do this.
“That was guilt, by the way.” “Oh, I know.”
That smile on his face.
“I wish they had been meaner. Everyone.”
It’s only Tuesday. It’s only Tuesday? It’s only Tuesday.
I always think practice ends at 6, and it’s 6:30. I buy myself a rice krispies treat to eat in the car while I wait.
They all agree that a 3-strikes rule will be appropriate.
I apologize for the late dinner. They’re not upset. “As long as it’s before 8,” he says.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-Nine
This week.
Honoring my hunger and its different manifestations.
She’s right. I should just tell the truth and tell it now.
Another car full of girls. Today is a much shorter day.
She thinks it easier because she understands the asks. It’s easier because she’s experienced the hard.
Only two more weeks until another set of classes begins. I’m on my way. I’m on my way.
Dehydrated.
Grapes and cherries and answers to questions you didn’t want to ask.
This feels a little rigged. Is it supposed to be this easy? I am glad it was this easy.
I forgot to practice.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-Eight
Slow to rise.
The same black dress from Gap Body. I need 5 more of these.
Coffee and hammock and book. Finally. The morning fog blocks the sunlight.
I try to explain to him that it’s good to take a break. Every day is too much.
“A gentle entry.”
What is my wish? What is my challenge?
There is always good with the bad and bad with the good.
I finally remember to send her the images. I take a quick glance at the gallery. That was a special weekend. This is a special capture. I miss being in those kinds of spaces. I miss making art.
Four years now. Four years and one day.
Just a few more moments in the hammock before night settles in.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-Seven
The world will not end if I miss a day.
Two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Cherries and grapes. Pretzels and goldfish. Beef sticks.
As we head out of town, five hot air balloons dot the horizon. I smile to myself. The car is quiet.
I tell them that they’ll never see the girls again in their life. They just need to learn.
Too much coffee.
I take notes in between my mandated reporter training.
But they really did mean “elite.”
STANDARDS.
Sometimes, I’m happy when this happens.
93 days.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two hundred & Forty-Five
I should get up.
Is there enough bacon? Enough waffles? Bagels for them, morning pages for me.
So cold I need a sweater. Fall is almost here.
She laughs about my rigidness about time.
I’m glad I stayed on the phone with her. Just like the old days.
It is a lot, but not impossible to do.
They say it’s so slow. It almost sounds like every time we come, they say it’s slower than before. The businesses in town are suffering, they say. The vendors demand that they purchase quantities that don’t make any sense for their small business. Suffering.
Just say the thing.
Enchanting.
If you’re not inside, you’re still late. Still late.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-Four
Tired.
Wolf and Alligator.
It’s only Tuesday. But also, it’s already the end of July.
I want to pick up the bird wing but I know I probably shouldn’t.
I decide to take a right. There is a grandmother and grandfather playing with a small child in the front yard. Wiffle ball and bat. The yard is lined with roses. They are the only thing I hear.
I think I’ve figured it out. Nothing is wrong, but nothing is right. I am the problem. But at least I know that I am.
Invisible walls.
I didn’t even get to break in the hammock first.
Oh, this is so weird. Another new life stage.
A full table.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-Three
Cool, gray Monday morning.
Real talk. At least, it’s an attempt at real talk.
I start to think about crawling back into my bed with my coffee and my computer, but I know I must go.
They are having fun, but it’s loud.
I find my way all the way down to the end of the road. Ah, that’s where that is. I wonder who owns that. Another road; I’ll walk that one next time.
My to-do list is almost done.
I did not expect that today. But it doesn’t matter. This is all practice, anyway. Everything is a practice.
Everything is a practice.
It’s all starting to feel normal again.
It will be here before we know it.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Forty-Two
Just a little cold.
So, so tight and sore. Everywhere.
Exactly what I thought.
Mimosas and haircuts.
You want to be proud, but also not too proud, because they’re not perfect. But there’s no such thing as perfect.
“I mean, I could just go back, but they’re just going to walk me right back to you with the same boarding pass. But I’ll go back. If you want me to.” He sticks his badge in a reader and overrides the error.
He’s back!
I’m so tired.
Intuition.
And maybe you haven’t grown as much as you think.
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.