June 28th: Mischa Kuczynski
4:30 a.m.
I wake up from a nightmare and take the dog to pee, then get back in bed and scroll Reddit. I look over at Henry. Will this be the last cosleep? I try to memorize their face again.
6 a.m.
Henry wakes up smiling. They’ve done this almost every day since they were born.
7 a.m.
I make eggs and toast for Henry, which I finish while we watch an episode of The Nanny. I wish they would eat all of their eggs, I think, which is what I think every time they don’t eat all of their eggs. Are they leaving me some on purpose? This hadn’t occurred to me until now.
8 a.m.
I light a pink and a red candle. Magic supplies live in the office under the vision board I made on the spring equinox with Mitch and Amanda. I used to hate making vision boards, and I kind of hated making this one at first, too. But now I think it might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever made besides Henry. Plus everything on it has already come true and it’s only June.
9 a.m.
The sitter arrives. It’s Pride, and I planned to go to the city, but decided to change plans at the last minute. “What could be gayer than skipping Pride to avoid your ex?” Said Mitch when I called to explain. She’s teaching me how good it feels to swap big plans for small ones. Like instead of going out of town for my birthday last month, we dressed up as Italian sluts and went to the specialty Italian market in town for sandwiches to go, which we ate on my couch while watching Suspiria. We’re calling it Supermarket Summer.
9:30 a.m.
I call Amanda on my way to Andrea’s house in the east bay. We catch up on parenting, our writing, and our partners. I feel the best on days I’ve talked to both members of the coven. I listen to BRAND NEW BITCH by COBRAH on repeat for the rest of the drive.
11 a.m.
Breakfast burritos in the sun on the patio at Andrea’s. Then jicama with lime and Tajín We talk about our task for the day: constructing a pussy piñata for the upcoming pool party my coven is hosting, but it’s clear neither of our hearts are in it. “The gays need to rest,” she says.
12 p.m.
I watch Andrea get dressed. She’s wearing the grape shorts she bought on our first vintage shopping trip together. They have a loop on the back that I can stick a finger through and pull her whole body back into mine. I only do this about 2% of the time that I want to.
1 p.m.
We head to Berkeley Bowl. This might top my hometown market—I’ve never seen so many aisles, so many kinds of mushrooms. I feel like a tourist, deliciously overwhelmed and overstimulated. Andrea shows me how to pick a steak. I feel high at the checkout. Why do I love grocery stores so much?
2 p.m.
We pick up Andrea’s wife’s dress for her girlfriend’s brother’s wedding from the dry cleaner. The dress needed a side slit. Her dog rides in my lap and leans his whole weight against me. His fur is so soft. We’re both in heaven.
2:30 p.m.
We eat so.many.snacks and fall asleep watching furniture refinishing videos on YouTube.
5 p.m.
Andrea’s wife and her wife’s girlfriend get home. Andrea’s wife tries on the dress with some new shoes. Everyone agrees the slit was a good move and could maybe even be a little higher. She looks beautiful and happy.
5:30 p.m.
I try to roll a perfect joint. Andrea coos over it. I feel good.
6 p.m.
We take the dog up the hill for a walk. I hurt my arm a little trying to look tough and throw the ball farther than I can. Andrea looks too beautiful in the wind with the sun behind her. I keep looking at the grass instead.
7 p.m.
We watch a lecture by Saodat Ismailova. I text Henry to check in. They are having a ball with their cousin. I fall asleep while Andrea starts dinner and wake up to the smell of steaks cooking.
8:30 p.m.
I make the salad and suggest we sauté everything we can in the leftover garlic butter.
9 p.m.
Dinner with the polycule. We listen to Zé Ibarra and talk about patent law, funding for Andrea’s upcoming research project, whether or not viruses are alive, and which body parts do and don’t go
back to their original size after giving birth. The dog sleeps under the table on our feet, then does all his tricks for the leftover steak.
11 p.m.
Andrea’s wife and her wife’s girlfriend make us all tea and then we say goodnight. I think I can’t believe this is my life for at least the fifth time today. I decide to not think about anything hard or bad until tomorrow.
Andrea brushes her teeth and watches me undress.
I almost fall asleep while she works loose a knot in my shoulder, but then we stay up until two.
Postscript: I did eventually make the pussy piñata. It was glorious. Better even than the vision board.
Mischa Kuczynski is a lesbian Jewish poet based in Northern California. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing in Poetry from UC Davis and a BFA in Photography from the University of Utah. A finalist for the Ruth Lilly Fellowship, the Lexi Rudnitsky First Book Prize, and the Oxford Poetry Prize, her work has appeared in American Poetry Review, Pleiades, Fence, Sinister Wisdom, Honey Literary, Peach Fuzz and elsewhere.