I noticed I felt sad. “I feel glum,” I told Jared. “You look glum,” he said and hugged me loosely. “Can I make you a tea?”
I talked through the list of things I needed to do. He told me all the things on that list I didn’t need to do. I thought of all the things on my mind lately. I thought of all my worries, and none of them were really worrying me. Wasn’t my cycle. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.
Jared fixed me a chai. His spicy homemade brew, and then he left for his weekly botanical survey work. I felt sad, lonely. I moved from task to task, distracted, sad.
A customer came to pick up plants, and Beren peered outside. He felt the cold wind and closed the door. I came inside to fetch some paperwork and told Beren, “We’ll have our guys day* when this customer leaves.”
When she left, I came into our dimly lit house, and I noticed how tired I was. We agreed to stay home until after lunch, him playing Legos, me reading an astrology book.
I snacked. I made coffee. I took out a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle and flipped over a couple pieces and went back to my astrology book. It was uncanny. That book.
I noticed I was tired. I didn’t feel sad anymore. I wasn’t sad, just tired.
We met old friends later that day. The kids climbed trees. My friend and I watched and talked until they had to go. We walked back to their car, the kids looking for “evidence”. Bits of paper, washers, a computer part, a Metrocard, receipts, and shopping lists in the gutters and around trees. With each piece of evidence they found, I thought about dog urine and dirty sneakers. I held my peace and their play continued.
On one scrap of paper was written:
After parting ways with friends, Beren and I got ice cream first and then falafel sandwiches.
I went to bed early. I am not sad nor tired today.
* A weekday in which he and I, or he and Jared, have time as a duo.