600. Six hundred days of living through words.
The sound of an owl? Not a pigeon. Too early for the pigeons. It must be an owl.
Chai then coffee.
Not a cloud in the sky. I can already feel the cumulative effects of sunshine on my spirit.
This looks like it’s probably the school. His stomach still hurts. I had a feeling this call was coming.
I take the two little chicken breasts and make a quick chicken soup. “You’re a good mom,” he tells me. I’m always trying my best.
I see a sheep chasing another little sheep and it makes me giggle. It’s still funny to see cows standing next to the bases of the turbines. Nature and machine in such close proximity.
Her accent is soft. She’s from Barcelona. The waiter too speaks Spanish to us first. I like it. Croquettas, Pulpo, and Gambas. The gin and tonic arrives in a large glass with a sprig of rosemary, edible flowers, and juniper berries. Even the cuts on the large rectangular piece of ice are beautiful. Garnatxa Blanc from Empordá, Basque country. I can’t wait to go to Spain.
The call. We finally got the call. There’s space for him in our home school now. It means only one school for drop-offs and pick-ups. It means walking to school. It means me having a chance to get to know other parents. It means no more 1.5 hrs in the car each afternoon. It means getting a little bit of life back.
Hawaiian bowl. Riesling from Trimbach. A classic pairing. The extension of daylight. Promises of warmer weather that is to come. I can’t wait for Spring.