imperfct

There’s always something to do on the computer, it’s non-stop computer these days. Computer at gymnastics class as if the spreadsheet I’m making is important enough for me to miss the perfect/imperfect cartwheels happening in the background. I have to Google “how to make grid lines in Sheets” then realize they’re called cells — so “how to make lines around cells” then I text my sister who replies a few minutes later: Table, format, border.

I DID IT.

— is what I texted back when I found my success.

I listened well last week. It was the best thing I did. Then, we drove to Montauk and by the good fortune of family, stayed at a cozy house near the beach which in Montauk is really everywhere and I picked out the bike that was covered in stickers that had the stainless steel cup holder. The bike creaked when I rode it down the road and the seat was lopsided, glorious. I forget about bikes. Two-wheeled true freedom, hair whipping, coaster brakes! Later, I rode both daughters on the back of the bike, one at a time, to and from the beach, one turn for each. The waves leaving the beach by the lighthouse make a gurgling sound, an exhale.

I forget to write. Because there’s so many other things to do on the computer.

Pia asked me what holiday I’m looking forward to next and I began to cry. It’s hard to feel special these days. I didn’t answer her because I was crying. Because I don’t know. Because of the canker sores in my mouth. Because I’d been grumpy all night, trying my best to be cool and make a dry erase board schedule for the night, to send off the class parent email, to stave off general Covid anxiety currently fueled by the scratch in my throat, to make sure peoples’ hair is combed so it will look alright for picture day tomorrow. Cartwheel!

Everyone’s asleep now and we were way off schedule.

I DID IT.