Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-Nine

1. I wake up from the dream. We had an open house and I was walking with the realtor asking him for feedback. He asks me, "Do you want to sell the house, or do you want to move to California?" I feel like it's a trick question, but maybe it's not. Also, why does a dream about an open house feel more like a nightmare?

2. The tick of the sprinkler down the street. I can't see it but I know which house it is coming from.

3. December 12. Campbell, CA. That's the one.

4. I let him play while I do laundry. This morning, laundry feels like the only thing I am capable of doing. Head ache. Can't think. Read and wash and dry and fold. 

5. I squeal at her news. Because it's a blessing to be able to share in the success of others. Because I'm always rooting for her and always wanting to see her win. And because it's amazing to watch someone grow into themselves and watch things they proclaimed for themselves years ago begin to come true. 

6. I try to nap and reset myself but it doesn't work. I am mostly walking around with my hands in my pockets. This is anxiety at its finest. Also, I'm waiting on emails and not much else can happen until other people do the things on their ends. 

7. Before I meet her to pick up the kids, I decide to do two things: something that feels like self-care and something that is productive and necessary for my move. I choose a book, Children of Blood & Bone, and labels for the moving boxes.

8. I think of Nia as I go and cut thyme and rosemary and sage and oregano. I think of how I can decide to feel safe right now in my home, with these plants and with my books and with my people. 

9. I don't think he realized what he said. 

10. I decide on a bowl of ice cream before I fall asleep. I decide that tomorrow will be different and maybe better. I decide that tomorrow I can try again. I decide that today's win was recognizing that my thoughts were not truth, and that everything is going to still be amazing, because this is still a dream coming true. This is the just the bitter part before the sweet.


alisha sommerComment