I came home for lunch, as I often do. And while I was home, I took the ridiculous, hairy, shedding, barking Newfie for a walk, as I often do when I come home for lunch.
We were walking, the dog and I, up the alley behind our house, taking advantage of a short break in the rain. We weren’t in a hurry. He sniffed at the grass. I looked up at the trees. And while we were sauntering in this way, I caught sight of a car that had stopped in the middle of the street, just visible at the end of the alleyway.
The passenger window rolled down, and I heard a man’s voice call, “Hey lady! Don’t you know it’s illegal to walk grizzly bears in public?!”
It was not a familiar car, but voice was unmistakable to me. The dog didn’t recognize it.
A few minutes later, backpack slung over his shoulder, the man who’d called to me got out of the unfamiliar car and started walking down the alley. Finally, he was close enough for the dog to smell him. Tail wagging wildly, that oversized ball of brown fur almost pulled me off balance in an exuberant lurch forward toward my son, who had decided to make an unannounced visit home for fall break, just for a couple of days.
“Hey, big guy!” the man-child said, rubbing the dog’s ears.
“Hey, Mom!” my boy said to me, stooping to give me a hug. “Surprise!”
And I decided everything else, including the writing I’d planned, could wait. I mean, I’m not missing a day, because I’ve made it too far for that. But these few, short paragraphs are all there is today, as should be.
See you tomorrow.
This post is 53/56 in a self-directed challenge to write (or at least post) something (SOMETHING) every day – a birthday gift to me from me, because writing gives me a place to put the clutter that lives in my head.