First night in loft. Only a bit to self before getting on the Road to Caddis. My second to last day there. Too far to drive, and want to singularize. On the AE story, writing about it. At my island counter, which I call the Johnson Bar, gathering thoughts and understanding of where I am in the story.. symbolically and tangibly.
Throat a little scratchy. Hope it’s not a cold, don’t care if it’s covid. Shocked I haven’t caught it by now, honestly. Feeling tired though, could probably go back to bed for a bit, but of course won’t, can’t with the tasting room day. More and more, seeing the value of the immediate – the otherwise dismissible. ME, as a topic. About EVERYTHING, about ME. My sister, my work history, going to Sonoma State and living on campus those two years… the people I swore would be my friends forever, but now are ghosts… memories. Fond ones yes, but no where visible.
Mind everywhere, seeing this as the only thing left for me to do. WRITE… all of it. And with three kids I have more than enough “material”. Henry yesterday wanting to throw the ball with me…