Gerald Made a Decision
November second. Gerald dropped a leaf. One leaf. A single yellow one, perfect and flat, lying on the tile directly below the windowsill this morning. I found it when I came in fo…
Read entry13 entries tagged #kitchenwindow.
November second. Gerald dropped a leaf. One leaf. A single yellow one, perfect and flat, lying on the tile directly below the windowsill this morning. I found it when I came in fo…
Read entryOctober 31st. There is a crow on the fire escape. Has been for, I just checked, eleven minutes. I noticed him while I was waiting for the kettle and I have not moved from this spo…
Read entryOctober 29th. There is one sentence in the draft folder. It has been there since the morning the prints caught the light, the low, raking, October-specific light that comes in fro…
Read entryOctober 27th. I opened the app because it was a Tuesday and I had coffee and no particular plan for the next twenty minutes. That is the honest reason. Not hope, exactly, more lik…
Read entryCold enough this morning that the windshields were frosted over. Not the first-cold-morning kind of cold, where you think maybe, the committed kind, where October has clearly stop…
Read entrySunday morning. I called my grandmother before I'd properly woken up, the kind of call where you settle into the kitchen chair and forty minutes go by without you noticing. She ta…
Read entryAugust tenth. I had not planned to be on the phone for an hour and forty minutes. I picked up expecting twenty, maybe thirty, the catch-up version, the are-you-okay version, and t…
Read entryJuly nineteenth. The light came in the way it only does in the second half of summer, not tentative anymore, just settled into its angle, like it has decided where it belongs and…
Read entryApril sixteenth. The light was doing something specific by ten o'clock, and I kept stopping what I was doing to look at it. Not dramatic, not the golden-hour kind of thing I've be…
Read entryApril twenty-third. I looked it up. That's the sentence. I wrote it in my notebook first, which felt absurd, and then I typed it here, which felt more honest. The tab is still ope…
Read entryNovember eighteenth. I have been telling myself I wasn't thinking about it. This is a thing I am apparently capable of doing for an impressive stretch of time, about three weeks,…
Read entryMay twenty-eighth. Carol's card has been on my kitchen counter for eleven days. I know it's eleven because I counted on Thursday and then felt slightly unhinged about having count…
Read entryJanuary thirtieth. There is a specific kind of waiting that does not feel like waiting, it feels like Tuesday. The dishes are clean. Gerald is fine. The collapsed bowl is on the w…
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