Ten.Seventy-Five

1. 2:30 in the morning. This is dark night. 

2. My Uber driver is Miguel and he drives a newer Altima but cigarette lingers. He's nice enough; originally from Colombia, now in Chicago by way of California. He's looking forward to seeing snow. 

3. Apparently lots of people take 6 AM flights.  

4. I sometimes have to go through those machines at security that scan your body. My groin is always highlighted. They always ask me if I'm wearing a belt. I never am. She pats me down. It occurs to me this morning that maybe there is some bit of copper left in me from my IUD. 

5. I get my rental and head to Wellesley to see her. Finally. It's taken so many years. It's like we do this every week. We make plans and talk strategy and life and kids forgetting homework. We talk life.

6. I manage to keep my anxiety in check as I make my way from Wellesey to Holderness. My husband asks me if I'm enjoying the scenery. I haven't noticed—I'm too focused on making sure I don't miss the exit that's 45 miles away. But every now and then there's a break in the trees and I suddenly realize that I'm in these mini mountains. 

7. I stop at the corner store and find the last flashlight, a bottle of bug spray, a bag of gummy worms, chips, a can of smoked almonds, bananas, and grapes.  

8. I get weirded out when people in real life tell me that they follow me on Instagram.  

9. The beauty of this place. The sound of the lake breaking against the rocky shore. The dirt paths, metal canoes stacked on top of one another.  

10. I need this. I hope I don't disappoint tomorrow.