walking the dog   Leave a comment

I haven’t written in a few days because my elderly mother called me screaming early in the morning; she had broken her ankle in 3 places and had to be transported to the hospital. I am still tired and she is still in the hospital.

This story though is not about that, that story hasn’t ended.

This story is about ‘not’ wanting to walk my dog, because life is happening to me. This story is about walking my dog so she would be happy to be my dog and about having so many good experiences in my neighborhood, just because I walked my fabulous little dog.

I decided to water my urban front yard to put off walking my dog who waited patiently for me while I watered plants that really did need to be watered.  And as I was watering  I found someone had left seed, amaranth and some other seed, maybe watermelon. It seems late for watermelon, and then I think, “maybe it was for the birds?”  No, I think,  someone left it for me, I’m sure they left it for me. I was so happy to see it; how could it not be for me? There it was next to the bench in a cute neat little pile. I wonder if my cool friend left them for me. This friend would not know my mom was injured and she did leave me a green egg, buried in my front yard garden just the other week. Could have left the seed for me also?  Either way I am happy, I hosed them right into the soil around the tree.  I look forward to seeing what grows up.

I then, instead of walking on with my dog, visited with the neighbor friend that I share the front yard garden with. She offered me a ride to see my mother anytime after taking her daughter to school and before picking her up. She’s sweet, she likes my mom and like hers. I asked her if she would also help out with my dog and of course she would let her in or out and take her for walks if needed.

Before I had even left the front of my house a woman in the neighborhood walked by and said to me, “the roses are beautiful”.  As she was talking she casually bent down and picked a tomato from our garden, popping it into her mouth she walked on.  How much better can it get, sharing food with people you know only by sight?

These moments remind me that I am not alone, and that others are having their lives and that though none of us ‘know’ what goes on with the ‘Others’, we are not alone.


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