1. It's still so dark.
2. The thickness of the fog reminds me of somewhere that's not where I am. The landscape and the weather is so different here. What a difference 12 miles can make.
3. Frozen waffles for them. Fruit for me plus one cappuccino and lots of warm lemon water and kombucha.
4. I know how to work through this. I shake out the rugs and clean the bathrooms. Light candles. Reorganize my drawers. Dust the baseboards and the dressers. This kind of attention to the home breeds gratitude.
5. Morning pages in the afternoon.
6. Just him and me today. I always joke that he would have been happier as an only child.
7. I write my husband a letter. He likes these. Plus there are things to say, like "thank you."
9. He asks me to lay down with him. Reminds me that I used to do this at the old house.
10. Is it possible to clean your way out of sadness? I'm not sad. Really I am just worried. Worried that I'm not doing enough. Worried about my parents and the failing pumps in their city. Worried about getting a flat tire with a car full of children. I'm not worried. I'm afraid. So many fears. I want to remember what it was like to not be afraid.