Ten.Six Hundred & Ninety-Four
I let my eyes stay closed a little longer.
I put on his green sweater. I think of how I used to wear it when I was pregnant with the first one. His jeans too.
I drive over there for the bagels but the bagel place is closed. It’s okay. It’s good to get out first thing and see the fog hugging the sides of Mt. Diablo.
Coffee outside on the patio. I’m reaching for the light. The coffee is hot. I haven’t felt so comfortable in a long time. I think, maybe, I just really needed the extra sleep.
Just let it go.
But in a way, it’s like we already know each other.
Tacos and chips and salsa and guacamole. But it was the watermelon with some chili powder, lime juice, and salt that surprised me the most.
And then the time is gone just like that. That’s when you know it’s been a good time.
I call them from the back patio. It’s 100 degrees there, he says. That there’s something like the opposite of a polar vortex happening there.
The Art of Slow.