It seems we are always trying to remember someone or something, to freeze time. We do this in different ways. Sometimes we put prayer cards in our wallets for decades. Sometimes we hang a dog collar on our Christmas tree. Sometimes we let our minds linger despite the hurt.
Grace named Cookie. I wanted to name her Saluda because that's where she came from. I recall piling three young kids in our van one day, a spontaneous whim, "Let's go see these puppies, but no promises." In a double-wide in Saluda, we met her parents, Daisy and Spud. Who leaves without a puppy?
We thought we wanted a boy, but the boy was uninspiring. Instead, out of a pack of girl puppies, one with a clean white stripe up her forehead wiggled out and laid her chin on my knee. Done.
I think horoscopes are stupid, but I definitely believe in the providence of God.
Grace is right and better than me with words. The last week she was a Pac-Man ghost who followed the borders of our rooms mindlessly each night. Twitching and jerking. Clearly lost. Excruciating painful. Time to go.
Our family mascot. Jealous. Loyal. Joker-faced lover of our family.
No comments:
Post a Comment