When I listened to the message from the bus driver last night after dinner, I cried. My husband had driven to the park to pick up our daughter from softball practice and our son was in the living room watching TV. I stood at the kitchen sink, tears streaming, dripping from my face to my shirt. I didn’t wipe them away. The bus driver hadn’t said anything in particular, just wanted to touch base in case I had questions. She’d be a little later this year, she said, but she’d see me tomorrow. …
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September 7
We spend the weekend at the lake, the last of the summer. Maybe the last of the year. Everything is blue—blue on blue on blue, whitecaps cresting again and again. Someone once told me that turbulent emotions pass in ninety seconds or less if you give them room to roll through. I hold my breath, let the waves tumble me, then I’m back, head above water again. How long can I hold my breath? The water covers land as far as I can see. Somewhere out there is the other side. Somewhere out there …
September 4
I sleep long and hard, my dreams vivid, colorful. I wake lightly, keeping my eyes shut for as long as I can. It’s fully morning and I am again myself. Downstairs, I find my husband at the kitchen table, the coffee already made. In the dawning light, I see out into the backyard: a lily we transplanted from our neighbor has finally bloomed, a bright, white blossom against the early green. Pouring my coffee, I say I hadn’t noticed it yesterday when I mowed the lawn. “Maybe yesterday was a …
September 2
The kids sleep in most days, a habit that we’ll have to break next week. For now, they sleep and I sit on the couch sipping coffee and doing morning things: a bit of writing and reading and sitting in silence. Once they get up, all bets are off. There’s too much talking. My nervous system feels overloaded. The silence is never, ever long enough. I don’t miss the daily rush, but I miss being alone. Wind swooshes the trees, branches bobbing like buoys at sea. We could all fly away, I think, …
September 1
This September morning starts slowly. The overnight air is cooler, and a breeze blows through the windows, open at last. Summer is waning and it’s likely we’ll shut everything up and turn on the air conditioning again. But for now, we have fresh air. September first. I decide to wear a dress for the first time since January. There’s been no reason. I spend most of my mornings in sweatpants and change my clothes, reluctantly, before taking a midday nap. A long time ago, I promised myself I …