Exploring my driveway in the sunshine.
Everyone has been busy at our house. Dawn's friend passed away, disappearing like a spring flower gone much too fast. He was 38 years old.
At the same time, it has been twenty years since Dawn graduated high school. I curled next to her while she flipped through her yearbook, preparing to meet fellow students she hadn't seen since then.
"Funny how what was stressful back then is humorous now," she said, as she scratched that sweet spot behind my left ear. "Tears over breakups, pimples before dates, not enough money for that concert EVERYONE was going to. I wish I had such problems!" she laughed. "Twenty years, plans thrown awry by twists of fate and mother nature. I didn't realize back then that life is like one big amusement park, complete with the scariest, silliest, most thrilling, awe inspiring, heartbreaking rides you could possibly imagine."
She put down the book, I jumped down from the couch, and we headed outside into sunshine, ready to brave the world.
Whether you are a newly blind dog like me exploring the driveway, a space alien searching the stars, or a human fumbling along this road called life, there is a way. Not clearly marked or defined as we may wish, but all the more challenging so we grow. The best part is knowing that we aren't alone. If I stop and sniff the air, I can tell my safety net is there.
Thanks to everyone who has grabbed an edge of my net at one point in my life, tightened my belt on the roller coaster, cushioned my shoulders on the bumper cars. I was aware--and the memory warms me now.
I'll use my teeth and dig in my claws to keep hold of you.
Hopefully we won't get knocked around too much.