coniferous forest on mountain slope in fog

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I’m here today to write and perhaps plot my novel

To talk a walk with my husband halfway to his work because the walking has healed our marriage in a way counseling never could

But after that I may bake the cookies I mean to bake yesterday, and yet I do not know if I’ll have the time

So if not cookies then I will vacuum as I’ve been meaning to do to get the crumbs of banana bread off the floor.

And perhaps if that gets done to then mop.

But if mopping doesn’t happen I hope to make the guest bed for my friend coming to see me so I’ll have time tonight to finish unpacking the dining room

But if that must be put off for tomorrow I’ll certainly take the dog out and comtemplate this new place a bit more

And the strangeness of the world right now

And how my sister won’t talk to my mother

And I’ll wonder if I’ll mess up so much in their eyes that one day one of my daughters will cut me out of their life.

But after that I’ll be here making dinner and helping with a second grade book report while the back of my mind writes

And wishes to have its own hands to type with

But since I cannot have that I will fantasize of sitting and writing as my daughters write beside me

And since that won’t happen because they are of the age to contradict I will plan to read to them and then forget.

And go to bed wondering if one day I will be the one they blame for everything bad in their life.

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