Let the 100 class go early, gave them independent assignments and prompts, went to caf’ to get self a burrito, and here I am, under a 90 minute challenge to gather as much content, or tell as much a story as I can. OH— forgot to set timer. There, set. This burrito is precisely what the writer needed. Missing my babies, little Emma and all her morning smiles and Jackie sharing all his accrued sagacity. Quelle journée il a été! (What a day it’s been!) And all in my favor. Not much noise in the hall. Just finished writing a letter of interest, polishing my résumé, or “CV” as I more commonly call it, for a —
Interrupted by call. My wife, notifying me of sudden knowledge of her grandmother dying. Just finding out. Don’t even know what to write… I just saw her, meeting her at the Oakmont pool to take Jackie swimming. She was in higher spirits than I’ve ever seen her. But, she’s gone. Just like that. Life, cruel in its curtness. We get one try at all this. So all moments and days are gems and promises to us. We need to acknowledge, enjoy, laugh, and not take so much so seriously. Occurrences like this make you think about what you have, and how not only short life is but how fragile it is, especially when you have kids. I need to make the next 22 days, and beyond that more than “count”. They need to be magnanimous, cumulonimbus in all angles. Inspiring to me and everyone around me. But, enough about me. I hate when people do that, when someone dies they find a way to make it all about them, or they start thinking about what they should do as a result, how they should better live their life, now. Again, them them them. What about my wife’s mom? What about Meliss, my wife? I will be there for her for whatever she needs, for whatever her mother needs. Wow… A harsh, stern, punctuated lecture from Day 8.