Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty-Four
Gotta stop drinking coffee so late at night.
It’s my favorite part of the day, delivering little envelopes filled with beauty.
Two tiny apples and water before coffee. I decide to stay in the cabin and watch the sun rise through the window.
My biggest worry is that I’ve looked and felt too distracted this week. That even though I tried really hard to be present that there were moments where I just really wasn’t.
It might just be an unhealthy coping mechanism. And it’s exhausting.
Or maybe I’m just sad that this is all ending and I really don’t want it to. I text him to tell him that I need the floors swept and vacuumed, that dinner needs to be taken care of, that I need two heads of celery and bags of apples and carrots for juice. Oh, and for there to at least be breakfast for Monday morning already available.
I will miss the quiet of this place. I will miss the weird acoustics of the round room, the way whispers seem to travel across the space. I will miss these hills. I will miss their laughter. I will miss feeling seen and heard and held.
That name will never not elicit a visceral response even with all the time that’s passed.
In the pouch are the brass hoops.
But I don’t want to go.