Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty
I’ll get up when the waves stop.
Steel cut oats simmered slow with butter and brown sugar. Lemon water.
Crusty stuff on my left eye which makes sense because it is on the left side of my throat that I feel the drainage and the left ear that keeps making that crackling sound.
I’m glad I left the house. Sun. So much sun and Mt. Diablo. In the next house, I want to see it from the window.
One large pot of ginger and lemon tea. I sweeten my cup with honey from her hives.
Tonight’s dinner already on the stove: the smell of onions and celery and garlic and carrots, bay leaf and rosemary and thyme.
The way the sun is hitting the pink petals. I am mesmerized.
I just want this to go to whomever it belongs.
Hot chicken noodle soup and a warm piece of rosemary focaccia.
The thing is, this only works because we are so different. How do we make sure that our differences in needs aren’t perceived as slights toward the other? We communicate but sometimes not well enough. A constant practice.