Ten.One Hundred & Eighty-Two
1. He wants blueberry scones with a lemon glaze.
2. Stripes of lavender and pink in the winter sky. Snow glittering like diamonds.
3. Coffee. The real kind. And in a tiny mug that makes me feel like I'm drinking more than I actually am.
4. How has it already been 10 years? He is up to my nose. I can wear his t-shirts.
5. We drop the boys off at the movies to see Star Wars and then go get our nails done. Gold sparkles on her fingers, black sparkles on her toes. I choose a midnight blue that looks almost black. "You always pick such dark colors," she says.
6. The 10-year old picks Portillo's for lunch. I eat and then clean the bathrooms. Nothing that I wanted to have done by today is actually done. I sigh about it.
7. Steak for dinner. I get a little teary looking at him sitting there eating his ice cream. I take another sip of wine.
8. We unload into the house but I decide to head back out and shovel the driveway. It's the light stuff and it moves easily. 8:30 and so quiet.
9. I am thinking of tomorrow, the way the day has filled itself up with people and places and things and feelings. I think of the way it feels to tell someone about a thing that doesn't make sense on the outside but that you feel deeply on the inside. The split-second feeling of shame and fear of being misunderstood.
10. It's just that sometimes I want to get it too right.