Of unfair frustration, keeping some things for myself, and getting used to help.

  1. The number on the scale hasn’t changed. Just my feelings about it. Constant vigilance.
  2. My frustration is not fair. It’s a tough gig, and it’s still new to him, and I forget.
  3. Nothing good ever comes from being in a hurry.
  4. The sky is so dark with rain that the lanterns are lit on the wraparound porch, giving the house’s gingerbreading an eerie glow beneath its bower of trees in the grey air. It’s the sort of lo-fi aesthetic I love seeing on Instagram. It breaks up the parade of faces and opinions. I consider getting out my phone to capture and share it, but I take a mental snapshot instead and file it away. A little beauty just for me.
  5. How much of our lives are spent waiting? How much is actually worth waiting for?
  6. Interruption after interruption, each time an opportunity to practice grace. Even if it’s annoying.
  7. I refuse to be triggered by trust anymore.
  8. The gravity of what I’m tasked with hits me all at once. I well up in a cubicle at the back of the library, a mix of gratitude and anxiety.
  9. Barometer headaches are the land version of the bends.
  10. She starts to cry because I didn’t let her throw the chopped mint into the sauce. I pause to reflect before shushing her hurt feelings. Why didn’t I? “I’m sorry, baby—I forgot. I’m not used to having a helper; I’ve always done it by myself, so I just did what I always do. Next time, I’ll do better.” She smiles. Things are different now.

Author: Ellie

Uppity stardust. Will eat (almost) anything.

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