Feeling

5:42am I don’t feel much any more. My emotions are too scarred from years of anxious thought. What is the point of recounting the past? I am not who I once was. I will never will be that version of me again. A fleeting glimpse of the sun bursting through fluffy clouds above the mountains. Being intimate with the woman I love. Long drives through parts of northern Utah only I know. For so long I held on to those thoughts. Cherished them. Now they only remind me that I will disappear from the earth. I will die just as will everything I love.

Monday

6:02am despite sleeping in I still feel tired. I woke up, sent an email declining to interview further for the Denver job then made myself a cup of coffee. I try to remove myself from stress by being objective. I tell myself, “this is just one moment. It will be over soon.” Or, “once the job is over the stress disappears.” That helps a little. I sip my coffee, open the blinds and look at the sun through red clouds.

Morning

7:43am At the top of the hill we turned left. Our path became narrow and uneven with low hanging branches overhead.The dog pulled her lead so I took in the slack. Stillness enveloped us. The only sounds were those I created; keys jangling in my pocket, water sloshing rhythmically in the bottle, the sound of my own breathing. For a moment the sun peeked out from behind the marine layer. The air instantly felt thick. I absently wished for a breeze or another cloud. Luckily both arrived. Then my thoughts turned to work. I decided a job can define limits on time and freedom like bars in a prison cell. That work can appear like an unnecessary construct that robs us of peace. Yet without those limits what would we truly do? It is easy to believe the lack of freedom keeps one from finding peace. But perhaps that is misdirection. The surrender of freedom to a job hides the inability to find peace rather than causes it.

Walking

8:45am After that, I went for walks by myself up the hill behind our old home. The strolls took on a different energy after the move. I was a tourist, not a resident. When I lived there I returned to our apartment after a walk, made breakfast and watched the morning sun shimmer on homes across the way. Now I get in my car and drive away. Who is to say which is best? My ego wants the home with the ocean view. But was I happier? No.

Help

6:22pm When my daughter and I returned from dinner we saw a woman across the way moving a table. Trying to be self sufficient she had placed the heavy table on a skateboard and was awkwardly rolling it down the path. The going was slow and every couple feet she needed to stop and reposition it on the board. She was going toward the car parking area that was still over a hundred feet away. “Let me help you,” I offered, jogging to catch up to her. She looked up, annoyed that she needed help but resigned to accepting it. “Thank you so much,” she replied. She was in her late forties, tall with long blonde hair that was becoming disheveled from exertion. She wore a white strapped top with a long green floral skirt covering her angular legs. Seeing that I would be occupied for a moment my daughter sat down on a nearby bench and began scrolling on her phone. The woman and I pushed the skateboard onto the grass out of the way. We each took an end of the oak table and began carrying it. As we walked my arms strained agains the weight. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The bottom of the table hit my legs and bruised my shins. I could tell she was struggling to but refused to take a break. “I am good,” she said when I offered a brief respite. We got to the parking lot. She approached a white economy car that had backed in. After opening the trunk we lifted the table over the edge and placed it face down. When we were done she thanked me again for the help. This time more effusively. I assured her it was no problem and I was happy to help. I even waved as she drove away. As I walked back to join my daughter the sun was beginning to set and the air smelled of sweet ocean salt.

Follow up

3:29pm By the time I got to Palm Desert I realized I couldn’t see my friend and make it to Dana Point in time. I texted her to say I got a late start. She replied, “Hi there. Bummer. See u next time.” When I got to the apartment I found a parking spot on the street. The sun was warm. A cool breeze blew off the ocean. I unpacked and changed then took the dog for a walk down the path that circled the complex. An overweight man nodded as we walked by. Kids on electric scooters raced down the path ahead of us. I felt content in the last remnants of the warm afternoon.

Drive

10:15am The drive to California irritated me. I couldn’t relax. Heavy dust blew across the road, causing trucks to swerve in the narrow lanes. The sun heated the windshield and stifled the air. My phone buzzed with the constant ding of new messages. I worried for my safety and wondered what work I was missing. I longed to be somewhere safe and quiet. Away from the noise, the motion and the incessant calling. I regretted setting an appointment for today. I had set aside this time to be free. Now I cornered myself into obligation. The realization made the miles go even slower.

Travel

5:32am I am traveling to Orange County today. I will leave at 7am. Seven thirty at the latest. I am going to see my daughter for her birthday. On the way I am stopping to meet a work acquaintance. I have only talked to her over the phone. She said to to visit if I was passing through. Usually I travel on weekends. But today is Friday. When I called to tell her my agenda she seemed excited. “Stop by. I will show you around.” Our brief conversations have had a flirtatious energy. Nothing overt. Enough to make us curious to meet. She has an appointment that finishes at 12:15pm. I will plan to visit around 12:30. One at the latest. I will meet her then head south to spend the weekend with my daughter.