again.

i have been having regular calls with my therapist.
on saturdays on the way to trader joe's
or target.
i always say, "hey, kathy. it's jessi. (pause) hamilton."
as if she doesn't know who i am.
she says, "hey, jessi. what's up?"
as if she doesn't know what i'm about to say.
as if she doesn't realize how much i appreciate her at-home minutes.
as if she doesn't know i'm on the edge of the deep end.
and so i talk.
fast.
and she listens.
and talks me off of the ledge and back to the place where
my feet
can
touch.
until i call her again
and she is (thankfully) at home
and i am (thankfully) able to cry and drive.
and then breathe.
and then remember to open my sunroof
and feel the warmth of god's light
turning my brunette into red
in places i'd prefer to be any color but grey.
and then i park
put one foot in front of the other
and buy things like arugula
and lunch meat
coffee
and sparkling water.
little things that turn my week
into a plan.
so that i can make it until next saturday
before calling kathy with a k again.