Ten.Two Hundred & Fifty-Three

1. Turn the alarm off. The first game is not until 11. I can rest just a little bit more. 

2. The sound of the coffee grinder. The drip of the coffee. My favorite sound of the morning. 

3. Still, I have more time. I like this feeling. I sit at the table and drink from the small indigo ceramic cup and read more poems by Naomi Shihab Nye. I wish I had found her work sooner. Or maybe this is the just-right time. 

4. I see the dad-coach from our first game talking to another parent. I want so badly to make eye contact with him. For what reason, I do not know. Maybe to just be seen. He avoids me even as I stand directly beside him catching rebounds for my kids. It's okay. We'll see each other next week. 

5. Some want this more than others. 

6. I make a cup of tea, chamomile with honey, and take it up to bed and write. Three very long pages. I ask myself if I spend too much time analyzing the "why" behind the slowness of my expansion instead of making more space to visualize myself succeeding in bigger ways. I wonder if this is a trap I've set for myself. Too many years of what I thought were "sacred 'no's." 

7. I'm excited for tomorrow's shoot. The sun will be out. It will be a quiet day. 

8. The way the sun is spilling over onto the bed, my hands, making the pen glow, highlighting the pages. It feels like a blessing. 

9. The worst time to need to go to the grocery store is at 5:30pm on a Saturday. Because it means dinner will be late. But as exit the store doors the sunset is in front of me, a creamy sky awash with lavender and blues and soft orange.

10. Dinner is later than late. But it tastes good and there is Riesling so no one is really that upset.