Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Nine
Monday. Last week of school.
Just one small cup. Or two.
The one morning they are actually on time is the day they don’t have to leave as early.
This dance is giving me nightmares.
Sometimes, you can feel the truth of it all in your bones.
“Look at a man the way he is and he only becomes worse, but look at him as if he were what he could be, then he becomes what he should be.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I run home to grab the boxes and see him walking up behind me. He says he has a two-hour lunch break. I want to stay and eat with him. For a moment, I panic. There are only two more years of this.
“…then you’d have more time to work on your writing,” she says. Another tug from the universe.
I'm kind of glad it’s a shorter work day than we anticipated, though it means there will be some heavier lifting in the coming days.
I reverse my walking route, and my legs certainly feel it. I don’t focus on the pace, just finishing. The gleaming flaxen light from the setting sun. Sweat dripping from beneath the brim of my hat. Gratitudes.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Eight
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Who’s texting this early? Oh, no. I need to switch them to the work phone ASAP.
I was right. I do like the way the light hits this little vase full of eucalyptus. I look forward to when the sun sets over the bunch of white peonies.
Just the two of us for practice today. I keep forgetting about those cobwebs. Everything is tight.
They want time in the gym. He shoots. She does volleyball drills. I answer more emails.
Laundry, laundry, and more laundry.
Feeling the heat.
I really only eat hot dogs in the summer, and they always taste so good.
One of the best things about summer is how you want to linger long after the party ends because the sun is still bright and the high heat of the day has just passed, and there’s still more wine and you’ve almost forgotten that tomorrow is Monday.
The last week.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Seven
First day of June.
I keep losing my phone, which is only a problem because I am trying to turn off this podcast.
Chai latte and a long walk around town, talking about life and kids and coaches and things learned.
The gift of sweet cherries.
Parents vs. Kids. Suited up in my oldest’s old little league All-Star jersey, hanging on the dugout fence. Wishing I could have played. There actually is still time for that.
She says that she knows I’ve missed her being at the house so much, but not to worry - summer is coming.
As I unload the groceries, I see doubles and triples of things. We must not be home much these days, though that is sure to change.
Tired but unable to take a nap.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen green on the monitor. I guess that means it’s working.
Fresh sheets and a bed all to my self. Still, I turn down only my half of the bed and slide in.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Six
Finally Friday.
I'm craving just a little bit of coffee, in this chair right here, in this light, with this view.
Oh. No plan. I chuckle to myself.
Constantly trying to remind myself that there is still plenty of time. But maybe not enough time for all of the things I want to do and be.
Their last Friday of school. The last Friday with the sound of clinking plates in the back seat of the car.
The five stages of change.
Balance.
The house is a disaster. Tomorrow. I can do it tomorrow.
Pushing fear to the back of your mind.
This is not the kind of game that’s fun to watch, but the company is good, and there’s a little bit of wine.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Five
Summer’s morning light.
Peonies bursting open. Summer is here.
Never one to shy away from the audacious.
There is something different about him today. Tired, maybe? Worried, maybe? Just life, maybe?
Realizing that there is still so much that you don’t know but I do love a good presentation.
Wondering if it’s better for me to sit and be quiet, keep my thoughts to myself. People have a hard time with the ones who are always asking questions.
A 2 a.m. arrival? I know we’re all groaning on the inside.
One more chapter.
These long talks at the dinner table when no one is in a rush to get up, and the words keep flowing, and you think to yourself, “This isn’t so bad.”
Friday.