Ten.Six Hundred & Eighty-One
Little leaks of light.
Pre-coffee conference calls. But that’s just going to happen when you’re separated by so many time zones.
Chilly. But I’m still going to wear the dress because…softness.
A whole house to myself for the day is some kind of luxury. A belated Mother’s Day gift. There’s still laundry and granola crumbs on the floor but I’m alone and it’s quiet.
Every new process gives me a little bit of anxiety. But I’m doing it. I’m doing it.
Hammock and Seth Godin. I can’t see the hummingbird but I can hear her.
When he comes home I want to say to him, “What are you doing giving your teacher a hard time with the hood?! Did you not know that her father is dying of cancer?!” I think of how there is no way of stopping to do the hard heart work of grief. Our culture doesn’t value the dying. We hardly value the living.
But really, I have to believe in myself first.
Leftovers for the win.