Ten.Four Hundred & Eighty-Nine
Donuts. Most likely the last time I’ll ever grab a dozen from this tiny shop on the corner. I think about making the drive down to Livermore so the kids can have a hot donut from The Donut Wheel.
He tells me that he wants to gift my oldest a new mic for the xbox so that they can talk to each other. I almost cry at the sweetness of this 10 year-old. So much gratitude for the parents out there growing compassionate children.
Coffee + stereo turned up way too loud. Sun shining. I pull up in front of her house and play in the thick carpet of leaves. I think of how I used to love the walk to school from the green house this time of year. I would kick up the leaves and listen to the rustle and the crunch.
Her fiddle leaf has gotten so big.
I don’t even make it to Washington Street before the tears start falling. I blame “As” by Stevie Wonder. I have no tissues and my coat is too thick to get to the sleeves of my sweater.
I eat a bowl of apple crisp and drink a cup of coffee with her at the table. The hour has passed far too quickly.
A bottle of 2001 Grange, some Clos Pegase Chardonnay, and Swanson Cignet Merlot. Even after the crab cakes, the coconut shrimp. the rib-eye cap, and the truffle fries—that Grange was the best thing I put in my mouth.
Does crying at the dinner table make people uncomfortable? Who cares. I already told them I’d had an emotional day.
I read her letter in bed. Then he reads her letter in bed. We both are tearing up a little as we roll over to go to sleep.