Wednesday is wearing Jane’s oversized turtleneck the color of dark green moss.
It is laundry day and lining up the kids’ cloth masks like a row of cards on the bench outside to dry in the sun.
It is setting aside an hour to write with Sumi. We catch up and talk about the shifting of seasons, the us we see in our children, and the little acts we do to be good to ourselves like riding her bike to the grocery store that morning among autumn leaves and the smell of change. We write and step into a place where time stands still and waits for words to spill and conjure their magic. We write, and near the end of our hour, it begins to drizzle where she is, and where I am the sky is clear.
Wednesday is a sick day for the husband. It is an impromptu date of eating hot noodles and soup topped with fresh basil and bean sprouts.
mijin kang 