Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty
Really? 5 am?
I move as quietly as I can through the kitchen, set out all the ingredients for breakfast: a plate of tomatoes and some feta, a few slices of bread for toast, bacon, celery for juice.
I make a list of what needs to be done. There’s a lot but not too much. I feel like I am forgetting about something.
One day she will be able to come with me. Maybe in another year or two.
So much sun.
Stuffed to the gills.
It’s an easy drive. No traffic at all heading this direction. I tell her that even though I have some hesitations about moving up this way, it is so pretty and I do love pretty.
”You ladies have been walking back and forth on this sidewalk so many times!” “We have a lot of stuff to do!”
Soy glazed pork belly, watermelon, and frisbee salad. Fettuccine carbonara with a Hanzell Sebella Pinot Noir. Trio of dessert wines: Sauternes, Ben Ryé, Tokaji.
This is my happy place: here, with her, doing this.
He sends me a text: May not seem like it but I’m very proud of the experience you’ve created for these people. That’s all I needed to hear.