1. Sometime around 3:30 am my sinuses open up and I get 2 good hours of sleep.
2. I look for the moon through the bathroom curtains but the sky is too overcast to see it.
3. I squeeze into this one pair of jeans, the most comfortable pair of jeans I have, and it's hard to quiet the disappointment. I tell myself that my body is just changing and that this kind of changing is okay.
4. I roll the oil blend under my nose and around my chest and throat and remember the old days of vapo-rub. How it was the cure of so many things. Which makes me think of my grandmother who would make us go to sleep with plastic bags on our feet to sweat out the sickness.
5. I love seeing her face on my phone. The return of the school year means the return of our almost weekly chats. I miss my best friend.
6. More mucinex and nose spray and wishing I had a mother close by to take care of me.
7. Soup for lunch.
8. There's a big pile of dirt in the middle of the cul-de-sac.
9. I read her email aloud to him and tell him that Teri told me to always accept the gifts. And don't feel guilty about it. Just be grateful. I said this year I wanted to go to the desert.
10. "What needs to be counted on to have a voice? Courage. Anger. Love. Something to say; someone to speak to; someone to listen."