Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Seven
I will try not to wish my life away by wanting to be somewhere other than I am right now in this moment.
Hard-boiled egg. But I’m missing the Piment d’Ville.
Feeling like everything needs to just be burned to the ground.
I can’t see her but hearing her voice is enough. I check the countdown clock: 2 months and 14 days. She says her stomach just did a flop. It’s soon. It’s coming so soon.
I order more supplies, secure our hotel for the night before we all arrive to the ranch, message someone about a camp burner. All of it coming together. This is the kind of work I want to build upon.
How do I continue to grow?
I shoot off a text. I realize that I am in a whiny mood. I am ready for this mood to be gone.
I tell him that I feel stuck. No growth. No movement.
“But at we’re here. We’re here. It can’t go perfectly all the time. There will be times like this but we’re here.” I look up at the setting sun and watch the rose vine sway. There is new growth on the palm, healthy and green. And yes, we are here.