1. Late. 

2. He came in and out of the room so many times that I lost count. And now he's sitting here with his head resting in his hand telling me that he kept coming in because his belly hurt. I recommend an apple and a glass of water. 

3. The list of what is left to be done is still so long and I am tired. I lay with them in the bed and watch Jurassic Park for maybe the 63rd time. 

4. I drive him to see an old friend. He notices that they've stuck in new flowers beside the hydrangeas I planted last spring. He also says there's a playground back there now. They must have little, little kids. My heart cracks a tiny bit. I want it back. 

5. I stop at Trader Joe's and buy three bunches of gladiolas because I love the way they look in our kitchen. Deep purple. They always look so grand and gentle.  

6. I drink another cup of tea and journal. I write to myself that I think maybe I am depressed. I list all the things that it could also be: the lack of caffeine, my anxiety surrounding my upcoming workshop, the laundry that still needs to folded, the fatigue, my cycle, that I've been down those streets too many times these last two days.  

7. I wanted salmon with burre rouge but nothing today is going as planned and so it's chicken fried rice and potstickers instead. But I burn the potstickers. 

8. I make him drink a little bit of tea to settle his tummy.  

9. He throws up on my feet. How he managed to make it all the way downstairs into the kitchen, I do not know. What I do know is that he'll be home with me tomorrow. And that I'm grateful that I have the luxury of tending to him. I need to tend to myself.

10. I still have the roller of essential oils she gave me from the last time I was sick and so I roll it around my neck and chest and count my blessings as the rain taps against the windows.