- She wakes up way too early crying but doesn’t soothe herself back to sleep as usual. I try to find out why. She says yes to everything I suggest. I hate not knowing.
- Sweater weather.
- He is his own kind of parent. And that’s okay.
- I send her two messages, then a third. I didn’t want to do the last one, but I had to–for both of us.
- Today’s workday is all work for once. Writing, setting up, connecting, asking, growing.
- I choose to look at it as intermittent fasting, knowing the gnawing sensation will stop in a few days, leaving me with clearer head and lighter conscience. But damn, I’m hungry.
- The doctor rolls her feet, her hips, her back, talks about tightness and stretching. All I can focus on is those same pains in my own body. How much I don’t want her to have them.
- Cancelled plans all over the calendar. I gently set aside my disappointment to instead embrace the space.
- I hate the link-killing algorithm.
- Three open tabs, each one a purported wellspring of clients, projects, and money. I do my best to showcase what I have, fitting square pegs into round holes, and putting as much warmth into these cold contacts as I can muster.
