Ten.Six Hundred & Forty-One
Might as well get up. What’s the point in waiting for the alarm
This doesn’t seem right.
No one is is as amused as I am by the “use up everything in the house first before buying more food” game. Trying to reduce waste. Trying to challenge them to eat other things besides goldfish and apples.
She asks me why I get to wear slippers in the car.
My fingers are still numb from touching the bacon at the grocery store. From touching bacon. Lost my entire sense of touch in 60 seconds of contact. I don’t know if I could ever do another Chicago kind of winter.
Irises leaning over a low brick wall. The bright blue-violet color against the taupe brick.
We talk challenges and goals. I whittle everything down to feel more attainable.
Oh, no. Not the ache at the back of the throat.
We arrive but see no one. The dad says he’s planning on staying for the practice so it’s okay to leave him there. His wife knows the feeling. She has to leave to take the sister to her own practice. I have to leave to take the other boy to his practice too. The calendar is full of these kinds of days. Of days where I have to be in two places at the same. Days where I really wish I knew someone I could fully trust. Days where I realize that it’s going to take me a lot of time to recreate a system of support for myself.
I guess I’ll start tomorrow by going to that PTA meeting.