Jessica Rogers Hilfiker

6:00 a.m.

My phone rang with bells and chimes. Its body vibrated and hummed on the nightstand. I did not open my eyes, but I heard the rustle of the sheets. My husband, Sam, turned my phone on snooze mode and then moved under our weighted duvets again, turning towards me, nestling his face into the crook of my neck. Outside, a 14-pound beast bellowed for food. He scratched at our door, but we remained cuddled in bed. We were two croissants next to each other. My phone tried to rouse us in 10-minute intervals, but we didn't rise until 7:20 a.m. 

7:20 a.m.

Sam slinked out of the bed first, and then I followed in my zombie-like state. It’s Friday but I was not in love with the November chills. I shivered while scouring my drawers and dressing myself in layers for the five-minute walk to the gym. Chester had been yelling outside of our door for more than an hour at this point. He liked to sing the songs of his people---all for a can of tuna. Chester’s passionate vocal work proved fruitful; Sam opened a can of Fancy Feast for him. 

Sam and I on our morning walk to the gym.

7:25 a.m.

I held Sam’s hand in the pocket of my jacket as we walked to the gym. I listened to my husband’s brilliant, wandering, and delightful thoughts outloud. Here are some Sam-isms:

• When looking at a tree with its leaves still intact, he remarked, “We won’t let go!”

• When passing our local supermarket, “I wish that the Giant sign was obnoxiously big.”

• When entering an elevator and struggling to pull his hand out of my small pocket, “It’s a deep pocket. It’s all stuck in there.” 

We kissed in the elevator and I looked into his beautiful eyes. 

7:30 a.m.

Although the gym wasn’t crowded, I didn’t have a lot of time to use the equipment. I resorted to using the elliptical and practicing a few ab exercises on a yoga mat. I became Sam’s coach as he joined my workout routine. I didn’t know the official names for certain ab motions, so I labeled some movements as “tippy-taps” or “raising the drawbridge.” 

8:00 a.m. 

We rushed back to our apartment because I needed to clean up before starting work. My husband prepared breakfast: miso soup with wakame, tofu, edamame, and enoki mushrooms. After I showered, dressed, and put on makeup, I made an iced matcha latte with a teaspoon of honey. 

My breakfast consists of miso soup and a matcha latte.

9:00 a.m. 

I began work while having my breakfast. The wetness of my long hair seeped into my sweater. The miso soup was salty and rich. The matcha latte was sweet and refreshing. I sat criss-cross applesauce on the chair and then Chester jumped onto my lap. He stayed with me until I began to squirm because my legs were falling asleep. 

Sam started his homework for law school. He has thick, heavy books with titles like “Wills, Trusts, and Estates” and “Business Associations.”

Sometime before 12:00 p.m.

After Sam finished his homework for the week, he told me his worries about squeezing time in for cleaning the apartment before we have guests over tomorrow evening. It seems that time is always slipping past our fingers since we graduated college a few years ago. I responded that I’d help with cleaning tomorrow. Teamwork makes dreamwork when there are dusty baseboards and a greasy stove. 

1:30 p.m.

I ate lunch while reading “Interior Chinatown,” a story about an Asian-American who feels like a background character in his own life. It’s a very good book. In my bowl, I had soy garlic chicken with rice, steamed broccoli, and kimchi. The kimchi was sour, tangy, and a little spicy. As a Korean-American, I’m trying to develop my spice tolerance. I have yet to master a challenge like “Hot Ones.” 

Today’s lunch is deliciously sad. The food is tasty, but the book makes my heart heavy.

2:00 p.m. 

I returned to work and pressed a button on my desk that raised it to a standing level. I balanced myself on a surfboard-like platform---it’s supposed to reduce joint fatigue as I stand. My eyes blinked slowly at the computer screen, trying to fight a post-rice coma. 

2:44 p.m.

Chester screamed a warcry to no one in particular and sprinted around the apartment. He made several laps around the 800 square-foot vicinity until he felt that it was appropriate to burrow himself under our bed. 

Sam did not join Chester in his loud rampage; he sat at the dining table, constructing pieces for his Star Wars board game. 

Sam’s workplace for his Star Wars board game also functions as our dining table.

5:00 p.m.

I finished work. We had plans to hang out with friends that night, so we scrambled around our apartment, brewing tea (it was a BYOB event), looking for wool coats (there was a mention of hanging around a firepit), and feeding Chester.

Sam and I take a picture before we see our friends.

6:00 p.m.

We arrived at our friends’ apartment via Uber. I hugged familiar faces and poured myself a quarter cup of sangria. I played Uno for the first time, but I must admit that I still do not know all of the rules. We also had half of a round of Mario Kart until an order of empanadas was delivered. After the heavenly fried pillows of chicken and cheese, we gathered around a firepit in our friends’ patio and ate s’mores. 

10:00 p.m. 

Sam and I went back to our apartment via Uber. I yearned to knit or read, but I did not have the energy to focus. My body was ready to sleep off a week’s worth of exhaustion, though Monday felt like a familiar stranger whom I just met. As I brushed my teeth and removed my makeup, I stared into the mirror and saw one long strand of silver, peeking from the darkness of my hair. Time ran away and returned as the first sign of aging in me. I contemplated plucking it out, but the strand of gray also looked like a sliver of starlight.

I did not have the motivation for turning a page or knitting a stitch, but I made my way to the bed, placing the last minutes of the day into a cuddle with my husband. 

I will leave you with this last Sam-ism, which I softly heard in his arms: “I love you.”

Chester would like to remind you to cuddle with your fellow seal.

Jessica Rogers Hilfiker is an aspiring writer who lives in Spring Garden with her husband and cat. She loves to write, knit, play video games, and watch anime. You can find her on Instagram at @jessicar.hilfiker.