Something about the morning is more calm and still, providing than other mornings.  Yes, I senses this before, but not like this.  Difference, contrast, no worry.  Has to be last night in the loft, I guess.  First of many things…. First time coming home to it and it’s just me, first glass of wine, first time washing dishes, first family dinner….  What did Didion say, “Life changes…in the ordinary instant.”  So then nothing is ordinary, I see.  What I’ve been saying, we all hope for some riveting material to fall in our lap as writers and other but what’s right here is more than enough.

Have my JPR today, and not a bit nervous.  I know I’m trying, I know I’m prospecting, I’m not letting any nerves or quota-coded fear into my morning or day ahead or ANY day.  

Just remembered reports… have to get those done before 1:30.  Plenty of time, plenty of morning left, 8:44.  

Leave, go to the office, or a coffee spot.  Leave the Nook, I keep telling myself.  8:53…

Thinking too much, and I mean excessively excessively, about one matter or another.  The solution and solve his to not think but just write and do, or rather write from what you do.  Sitting down to write is working less and less for me.  So I throw myself more molecularly into yesterday and last night.  That counter, the second floor and its loft feel.. this new book.  Happiness and a new definition which I’m absorbing and deciding increasingly by day.

What do I want from today.  Trying to think of ONE reality, or scene… easy.  The kids.  I want them to smile and enjoy their time with me, staying the night here – Jack and Emmie – and waking in morning to get Henry.  Will have them all day tomorrow, nearly can’t believe it.  Will show Henry the loft for the first time, have dinner there tomorrow with all three.

They, THEM… those three little faces, MY kids.. that’s the story.  How different they are each time I see them, when they stay with me.  Could gather several books about each, even Henry in his near-nineteen months a human.

Supposed to be like 92 today.  Saw 92 in the car yesterday.  Allergies attacking me.  Not much I can do.  Not in the mood for any medicine or pill.  Or maybe I am.  I’ll stop at Safeway and get whatever that stuff’s called.  Whatever, I’m not writing about allergy medicine.  Even though I am…

Another cup.  One more then I’ll leave.  Writing freely, badge clicking and clanking against this glass table.  Tucked in…. Life’s work.. LIFE…. Kids, a house, money, bills, people, all of it.  One big equation and I’m terrible at math.  But maybe not this math.  Keep EVERYTHING simple.  Minimalist yes but just singularized and consolidated.  

Me writing at a table, and coffee.  What’d that mask say, the one Mom bought me?  “Drink Coffee, Write Books, BE HAPPY.”