I am cutting a yellow kiwi. One of the sweet golden ones. Gold kiwis have always felt like a luxury. Tonight I will have oatmeal for dinner. Something that will feel warming. Cause my bones are cold. And my stomach is growling.

I am using a bread knife, cause my dishwasher is full of clean dishes that I can’t get anything together in me to touch.

My knife is missing the mark and I am cutting too far from the skin and scraping off too much of the hardest inner layer. The sweet and firm part.

I stare down at a yellow kiwi in a green tiled kitchen. being cold. feeling hungry.

I open my mouth to try the cubed kiwi, and the movement of my mouth breaks that thin tear crusted mask. The one that layers on top of the day’s makeup. closing the lips and firming the cheeks. And now my face is itchy, but I have oatmeal on the stove.

I listen to nothing until I hear a slight vibration above me. A fly in the light fixture is driving itself mad.

I do not help it out. I do not turn the light off. What might it matter if it goes back in.

throwing itself with everything it has. Unattended kiwi laying sweet on the table below.

Using what little life to crowd the lightbulb. absolutely nothing in return.

What is the difference between hope and desperation?

I suck on the skin. Soaking up all the sweetness. Feeling my eyes rinse out again. Down my cheek, to firm once again

There was a day last year where the gray sky corrupted the whole town.

Where the windows reflected gray.

Where the eyes reflected gray.

Where the skin turned muted and cold. The weight of being awake crept to dark under eyes.

The fog kept one cold. The cold kept people in.

My friend and I climbed up to the tallest hill. we brought hot oat milk lattes.

We walked slowly through the mud. We didn’t talk that much.

I thanked god for giving me her, comfortable with silence.

And when we reached the top we entered heaven.

The world below was completely shielded from us. The sun was out. The birds were singing.

A thick fog blanket obstructed the view and I remember thinking it wouldn’t hurt if I jumped. But why would anyone jump from heaven?

I put my two weeks in at one of my jobs this last week. A cute little natural and local grocery store. I’ve been there over two years and I’m honestly sad to have to say goodbye. But I’ve been trapped in a loop that I’ve created and I can’t continue living it and expecting things to change.

We are harshly entering fall season and I fear that three days off might be hard to fill. I’m taking an online class to try and figure my future out.

I don’t know what to do.

My love life is in somewhat of shambles and socially I have one friend, a sister and her friends.

My dog is wonderful and my family is supportive.

Now is the time.

Sink or swim

I’d always seen Kokopelli print around. I’d recognized the figure. I never knew the significance until I was gifted a hand beaded Kokopelli bracelet. Handcrafted by a 90 year old German woman who would sadly pass away two months after.

I got to know Dagmar through her “young” friend Ken who happens to be in his 70s. They’d frequent the restaurant that I worked in.

A double Hornitos margarita on the rocks for the both of them, also sharing a basket of duck tenders with honey mustard and fries.

Dagmar didn’t talk too much. But shed pretend to hear even though she couldn’t and would look to Ken for him to answer for her. Trust.

Dagmar didn’t even smile all too often. But she’d stare and nod. Sometimes furrow her brows.

I hold the bracelet in the same drawer as all my super sentimental jewelry.

After Dagmar passed, I stopped seeing Ken for a while. Until he came in with his vibrant ex wife who lived in Alaska.

Ken got into a horrible car accident right after Dagmar passed. He had lost a significant amount of weight and it took him grabbing my shoulder for me to recognize him. I cried a little going to grab his margarita that he tributes to Dag.

He tells me that he’s loosing his vision fast and that he’ll be almost blind by the next year.

Kris the ex wife heard about his health, sold her house in Alaska and moved in with him. With the money she got from selling her house she took him to see Yellowstone. For the first and the last time.

He came into the restaurant this last weekend to show me the photos of buffalos that he took.

I hug Kris and Ken every time I see them.

Ken has graduated to using a cane. Kris bickers with him but adores him.

I adore them

I went through all my old saved voicemails today and dang those are a trip to hear. But there is a woman who has been calling me from Arizona since ive had this number.

Ive had my number for like 10 years…

Her name is Jackie and shes been looking for her friend Wynona who appears to have a new number.

I have picked up a few times and talked to Jackie. We have talked maybe 3 times where I obviously expressed to her that I am indeed not Wynona.

She told me once that Wynona was dating a man who tried to steal her identity. That Wynona was a single nurse and that he took all her money.. that sux ngl.

I wonder if morally I should tell Jackie AGAIN that im not Wynona, but also I get so excited every time I get a voicemail from Arizona.

Wynona is a Libra. Jackie wished her happy birthday in 2023.