Ten.Three Hundred & Fifty-Two
1. 5:30 am run to the store for syrup and challah and coffee. She wants to make him french toast for Father's Day.
2. I show her how to grind the coffee beans and which buttons to press on the maker. I see her in me. She is a caretaker, to some extent, and I both love this and am worried by it. I guess it will be okay as long as she learns to take care of her self.
3. I keep thinking about what she said. About how she was surprised by the other kinds of work I do. I realize it's because what I am really so good at is what I really want to do. What would it be like to do only that—to write only my own words, to only run creative retreats, to only run writing workshops, to feed people, to make people think in ways they've never thought before, to create sacred space for people to gather and experience one another.
4. I think back to how I described what I do with people at the On Being Gathering: I facilitate experiences for women to explore their creative truth in the form of online and in-person workshops and retreats. Yes, I just want to do that.
5. It's been open for only 6 minutes and the parking lot is full. We are here for steaks and wine. We find a package of ribeyes and settle on a 2012 Hietz Cabernet Sauvignon.
6. We stop once more for and get a bottle of 2010 Chateau Lalande-Borie Bordeaux.
7. I close the book. I am done and undone.
8. I forgot the whipped cream for the shortcakes. She comes with me to the store to grab a few more ingredients and decides to grab a bag of chocolates for her father.
9. Even in the shade, the heat is oppressive. I can feel the weight of every bead of sweat collecting above my brow. But there is also something pleasing about the stillness of the air.
10. I eat another shortcake.