I started this blog because I wanted to write about my experience finding my home. Since starting it a couple years ago my contributions to it have been hit and miss. I sort of gave up the ghost on it once I moved to Portland. I was no longer home. It was a city that had been the butt of many of my jokes. I entered a fast-paced, high-stress phase of my life. This past winter, fall and spring has been trying, to say the least. I moved to a small house on the edge of town with just my two dogs. I started a new job, convinced I'd be let go before I got my feet. The days shrunk, the rain moved in, the holidays blazed by with just one wreath on the door and an unopened box of Christmas cards. Mid-May and just now the green is settling in and the rains are hard and mean, relieved by bouts of mean sunshine. And, I still am working hard, always tested and pushing through longs days one hour, one drill at a time. I faded away from friendships that meant everything to me. I settled into a routine of reading, highlighting, drinking longnecks and tallboys as I studied, walks in the rain to throw the ball to wet, wagging piles of fur. Connections with friends and family are always via technology that didn't exist twenty years ago. My thoughts seem like they have become more pets that I need to exercise and feed and that occasionally crap on the floor of my house. I wish there were thought-walkers. I'd pay them $20/hr to take my worries and guilt out on a nice long walk so it would have a little less bounce in its step when it got home. I've hit rock bottom more than once, blubbering to myself as I go to sleep or sit at my kitchen table. I've been mean and distant, tense and unapproachable. I've blamed and thrown more than one low blow, sometimes at myself (those damn frisky thoughts).
Tonight I saw Charlie licking the dry bottom of his water dish. I got up from my studies and grabbed his bowl of water. As I picked it up I saw him watching me, wagging his tail like there was just a slight breeze in the room. I scratched him behind his ears and he closed his eyes. After filling up the water dish I picked up his brush and sat on the steps. He plodded out behind me and sat next to me, starring straight ahead. I brushed his old-man fur. It is gnarled and dusty from nine months of hard indoor living. He is my dog and he has cared for me more than I have cared for him. He lay down hard when I moved to his other side, sprawled on the small concrete stoop so far that his shoulders and head were only supported by the low bush bordering the step. All this time I have wondered, what about me. What have I done moving so far from everything I know. Why is my life so hard and lonely. And this whole time I have two creatures always within twenty feet of me, patiently waiting for a walk or a ball tossed or a trip to the river. I saw a bumpersticker today that said "You are loved." My mind snorted and I started to think what sort of retard would put that sort of fluff on their vehicle. Then I thought that somewhere south of me, somewhere north of me, there are people who think of me and get a warm feeling in their heart, the same way I feel when I think of them. There are people who I may not talk to every day, or maybe I do, and those people include me in their world. This simple piece of joy had me floating as I pulled into my driveway to an empty house. Being able to carry a little bit of love with you always makes the short days long and the rain a little more lovely. I felt like I'd come home.
No comments:
Post a Comment