NPM 2018: I Wish You Were Infinite (Day 2)

I Wish You Were Infinite
Written August 19, 2017

I wish you were infinite
like mountain echoes
with each wind calling back
to its sisters
between ice and stone.

I wish you were infinite
like walls of waves
over endless seas of sand,
cresting and breaking
on every shore.

I wish you were infinite
like raindrops from storm clouds,
or needles from evergreens,
and like so many things in nature,
you are.

But you are only infinite
in the circle of my grief,
following through peaks and valleys,
until there is nothing left
but memory.

Thirty Thanks, Day 1: That Dog

I am way ahead of the game this year. I started planning this post a whole week in advance. It's November, again. We all know that means there'll be a cascade of gushing Thanksgiving blogs from coast to coast. I might pretend that I won't be one of those melodramatic bloggers, and I won't express all of my overly sentimental thoughts--but that wouldn't be completely honest. I will probably slip and say something mushy. Deal with it.

I decided to dedicate today's post to my dog Holly because her birthday was just this last week on October 29th, and she turned 10. (That's 53 in human years. And yes, that's an accurate number, because it's not an exact 7 human years per dog year. Look it up.)

For her birthday we took her to the local dog park. It's about a two-minute drive from home, and even though we've lived here for two years, we didn't know of the park's existence until about a month ago. She always has a great time, and sometimes even makes friends with other dogs.

As a treat, we gave Holly her first-ever cheeseburger. (Just beef and cheese on a bun, nothing else.) She probably liked it. I have no idea, she swallowed it before she likely got a taste. I figure, she's 10, she can handle a burger. Plus, I know I don't have much longer with her. She's old. She's basically incontinent, has weird bumps on her body, and no longer listens to commands on a regular basis. (Either she's gone deaf, or her stubbornness has increased with age.)

I am thankful for my dog because she is my oldest friend. She has been through so many things with me--every broken heart, every creative endeavor, every late night spent reading while I should have been sleeping. She is the best cuddler, the best kisser, and the best playmate. I want her to somehow understand just how much she is loved and cherished.She adds so much joy and laughter to my life, I cannot imagine losing her--but I know I will. And so I hope to make her last few years on this earth wonderful.