Ten.Three Hundred & Thirty-Five

1. I undo the twists. 

2. The window screens are still covered in rain but the sun is peeking through the trees. I know I need to harvest spinach, thyme, basil, maybe some mint.

3. One cappuccino before I begin.  

4. Today I will dust the baseboards. The house is so much quieter with one of them gone. 

5. I feel resentment rise as I begin to clean the toilets. I talk myself back down. I ask myself what is the anger telling me? What do I want instead? What do I need?

6. I realize that what I want is to be fed. Not figuratively, but in a very literal way. I want someone else to make me a delicious meal and then clean the kitchen afterward. I want to be cared for in this way.  

7. I walk to the garden in my bare feet, hot blades of grass pushing up between my toes. Cottonwood seeds sticking to my lips. 

8. I forgot to tell them to get rice so now I need to go to the store. I take my time and walk almost the whole store. A baby is screaming and I try not to stare but it’s hard. 

9. Hawaiian bowl for dinner but I skip the pork. Next time I’ll remember to add black beans.  

10. I drop my glass of rosé on the concrete and it shatters into what feels like a 1,000 pieces. I take it as a sign to get some rest.