- She cries at midnight. My feet are on the floor before I’m actually awake despite not having to go to her in the middle of the night for months. I wonder if that training ever fades.
- I mistake the sound of summer breeze in leaves for rain several times as I lay in bed. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve heard that sound outside my window.
- “I’m grieved over the desert my fiction world has become, how dark its skies. I feel like part of me is broken or paralyzed–numb but visible, a reminder of when I was whole and well and took free movement for granted. And I want it back.” — prayer journal excerpt
- Facebook memories tells me that on this day 6 years ago I was in Manhattan at a blogger conference; 5 years ago I was recovering from hip surgery but trying to write anyway; 4 years ago I was redesigning my writer’s website; 2 years ago I was admiring my husband’s care for our newborn. All me, all not me. Dissociative nostalgia.
- 35% whipping cream
- I run out of patience at 11am. I run out of spoons at 1pm.
List truncated for drama. Which is its own sort of drama, I suppose.