Ten.Four Hundred & Ninety-Two
Maybe I would have fallen back asleep if I had turned out his night light.
Fireplace. Coffee. Water. Mind racing. So many boxes, too many of them empty.
I can’t quite read their mood. “It’s your last Monday!” I say.
I watch the leaves blow across the front yard. The rain and the winds have stripped the trees. The streets are littered with wet yellow piles.
That was not what we were expecting.
That feeling of being nauseated. Like you want to throw up but you can’t. I do breathing exercises in the pick-up line. If I feel this way, I can only imagine that he also feels this way which makes me feel even worse.
But it can be figured out.
Nothing about this has been easy. I’m choosing to believe it will be worth it in the end.