Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Six
So cold.
I start in the dress and then move to pants and sneakers. Black and gray, androgynous. I like it.
Where are my gloves?
She’s just saying what I’m thinking.
He texts me a picture of the paper. Another little square on the front page.
I really want the steak frites, but these prices…
He’s not telling me anything I don’t know, and yet the eventuality of it all still stings.
“You must determine where you are going in your life, because you cannot get there unless you move in that direction. Random wandering will not move you forward. It will instead disappoint and frustrate you and make you anxious and unhappy and hard to get along with (and then resentful, and then vengeful, and then worse).” - 12 Rules for Life
So. much. giggling. But a little more focus.
But it was much quieter before.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Five
Just a few more minutes. And a few minutes more. And more.
Digging the finals week schedule and these two very different drop-offs.
He says my eyes look brighter.
Still positive.
Yeah, I’m doing the wrong thing here.
It’s the little things.
It’s dark, and he’s driving. We’re picking up his younger sister from the middle school. “Wow. I’m getting old,” he says. I say something about how many years it’s been since he’s been inside the middle school. “I realized today that I only have five more semesters of high school.” “It’s going so fast,” I say quietly.
We sit on opposite sides of the couch.
“Your conversations are interesting.”
Who’s washing clothes when there’s no dryer?
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Four
A little better than yesterday.
Nothing.
Negative and negative.
The fog this morning is thick and low, the thickest I think I’ve ever seen it.
Today, I really do not have the energy. I can feel it. I don’t even want to stand today.
Maybe it’s the construction noise.
I need another day, and maybe they do, too.
The truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
It’s just me and my feelings.
Tillamook Campfire Peanut Butter Cup.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Three
Monday.
He texts me that he has Covid. Great. I don’t feel good, and he doesn’t feel good, and all I can think of is all of the stuff that is not going to get done now.
I take a few tests to make sure I’m not positive and then keep making breakfast.
Cold by the window.
Our facial expressions.
“Phooooone!” they all exclaim through the open window.
The feeling of feeling incapable of making decisions, even the simplest ones.
No jury duty.
He falls asleep on the drive back home from the game, wakes up just in time to ask for Gott’s as we drive through town. I laugh.
But I need my weighted blanket.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Two
8:18 a.m. I needed that.
I see a text that asks if I need to go to the grocery store. He just wants to drive.
I am tired, but I know the time in the car is much needed. I stare out the window, coffee cup in hand, watching the vines blur as he speeds down Silverado Trail. The words are few, but they are important. He is so much me.
He says he noticed that I did not have a grocery list.
Finally getting the lights on the tree. I hang the stockings and then return to bed for a nap. She will take care of the decorations.
I can’t think of doing anything else today but closing my eyes.
They will be here soon.
The tree is large and beautiful and perfectly done.
I think they all need and deserve a little bit of rest.
I do, and I don’t.