Ten.Seventy-Nine

1. 2:30 AM. 

2. She's making me coffee in the french press for my ride into Boston. Plus a side of coffee cake. Grateful for friends who rise with you and feed you and caffeinate you.

3. The fog is thick and it's dark and the "low tire pressure" signal is on. It's the sum of all my driving fears—minus the bridge. I stuff the coffee cake into my mouth. 

4. I am only driving 45 miles per hour.  

5. I sleep on the plane. When I wake up I see the colors of the sunrise coming through the window: fluorescent orange and yellow.  

6. I am not sure what I am feeling. 

7. I clean and clean and clean then eat some leftovers and fall asleep.  

8. Dinner is chili. I am sleep-eating.  

9. I did miss this though. The way the clouds look at sunset. The way the trees wave to me.

10. I think back to the dock and the loons. The hands I saw doing all the making. The warmth of the wood and the wooden closures on the windows. All the mushrooms and the white birches.