Dear Mister Big Man,
I know you are especially busy this time of year, what with all the wayward humans giving thanks and hoping for moist turkey, but if you could fit me into your schedy I’d be oh so thankful. If you could pinch my cheek ever so lightly and remind me of my vibrancy—JUST BECAUSE I AM ME—that’d be lovely. And if you could pick me up, gently, from the tops of my ears and whisper into my brain that YES everything is good enough that would be sublime. But mostly, and not lastly, could you beckon my heart to open and expand in a way that keeps me moving forward and letting each and every one/thing in? I know it’s a tall order but I think it’s what I want Amen and A-Ha you may be seated.
Yours In Semi-Impossible Striving,
Sometimes on Saturday, after an exhausting morning watching our mother figure out which Thanksgiving side dish will go in what serving bowl, we like to wrangle her away from what appears to be a stress-filled road headed straight for Anxiousville and grab a mid-afternoon snuggle which inevitably involves her interrupting our special nappy time by talking to no one in particular about the redeeming qualities of Yukon Gold vs Russet Potatoes.
Make Her Stop,
Ned the Neglected
846. Blue/Green/Red Reindeer Christmas sweaters
847. The way Matthew McConaughey says “AlrightAlrightAlright”
This lady has always been one of my favorites. She resides on her own patch of property, high above the Pacific Ocean, at Palisades Park—stretching, leaning, diving toward the water, never forgetting that her main job is to bring a smidgeon of shade for anyone who chooses to pass by.
Trees can be quite generous, don’t you think?
Yours In Admiring What’s Right There, Right In Front Of Us,
Sometimes on Saturday, after we put in a good couple of hours at our upstairs post, waiting to bark at the people and animals and leaves and plastic bags and toddlers in strollers that go by, we like to make sure that our mother knows we are doing our level best to keep the homestead safe by flashing her our I-Got-This-Covered look, knowing that if that 700 pound Rottweiler should happen to charge our fortress she will be there to help us.
Yours In Occasional Back-Up,