Posts Tagged ‘Dog’

When it Rains it Floods

The Art Tree

Little Treasures of Home

The first thing I reached for when the creek started rising, was a picture of my son at the ocean when he was about five years old.  It’s my favorite photo.   He’s wearing a little pair of blue jeans rolled up above his ankles, walking in the sand and looking down at the waves barely covering his small bare feet.

I placed the photo carefully in the plastic tub I was using to hold my most cherished belongings.

I wasn’t ready for a flood, but I should have been.  Along with my rental lease when I moved six months ago, I signed a statement informing me that the apartment is in a flood zone.

I didn’t read the paper I signed.  I was desperate for a place to live. 

An unexpected bed bug situation in an apartment my son had recently moved into interrupted my search for a rental.  Suddenly, my son was without a home and I had a deadline to find myself a place.  We were tired.  The winter weather was cold and I was in severe physical pain.  Neither of us were able to continue looking, so we each rented an apartment in the flood zone.

The rain started late in the afternoon.  I hadn’t watched the news and was not aware of pending thunderstorms.

My dog, Ruthie, tried telling me the rain storm was unusual.  She barked loudly as soon as it started.  My gut grabbed me for a moment.

I opened the door and looked outside.  I could feel something different.  The rain was loud.

There were two birds here that I’d never seen before.  Cardinals were rushing to the feeders, getting more wet by the second.  As the rain continued, the birds kept feeding.  Water had soaked one cardinal’s wings and the poor bird struggled to stay in flight.

I quickly realized that everything in my home means a lot to me.  I’ve downsized and what is left isn’t replaceable.  Anxiety set in.

Family photos, art and crafts that either my son or mother created, and my pretty wooden clock that my sister gave to our immediate family members one year for Christmas, all went into the plastic tub.

I wrapped my little sculpture of a girl holding a bouquet of orange flowers to her face that my mother gave me for a birthday present about five or six years earlier.

Then of course, there’s the beautiful hand carved wooden spoon that I love.  My son made it from a large piece of Cherry when he was thirteen years old.  Without using power tools, he worked for many weeks chiseling, carving, sanding and shaping the wood.  How in the world can something like that be replaced?

I spent the best of four hours, while the downpour continued, putting things in high places, packing them in the plastic tubs and lastly, unplugging electrical devices.  I packed bags of clothes and necessities. 

Management sent a messenger to tell tenants to evacuate the parking lot.  Everyone moved their cars to higher ground.

Anxiety had me distressed.

Image of Haw River water currents

Currents Meet

Then, my son came over.  He was completely calm. 

At first, I was upset by this.  I mean, how could he be so calm, I wondered, when our homes might be flooded any moment!  I needed his help packing, I thought.

I felt disoriented.  I honestly wished I could have afforded a hotel, but since I couldn’t, then I was planning on driving to my mother’s home.  

After several hours of packing and listening to the downpour, along with seeing the families of other tenants come and go, taking their loved one with them, fatigue was overcoming me.  I would likely have to surrender my pride and perhaps, accept the invitations offered to us by two friends for nearby refuge.

My son had earlier gone to the store for water, drinks and snacks.  While I was running around packing stuff, he lied down on the floor with Ruthie and whispered in her ear.  This obviously relaxed her and since she is such a sensitive dog, I was grateful.

Within a few minutes, Ruthie was lying on her back with her legs in the air.  You know a dog is alright when they do that.  My son gently rubbed her little belly and continued talking softly to her.  

Ruthie and I both needed what he had to offer during the crisis.  I suppose he needed it too.

The worst of the storm came at midnight. 

The fire department and Red Cross had waited for hours on the other side of the bridge.  They had a rescue truck in our parking lot.  The water started to seep into the front door when I called them to say I was ready to leave.

Ruthie wouldn’t go outside.  I would need help carrying her to the rescue truck.  I was beginning to wonder if they would have to carry me as well.

My son had disappeared just before the water starting to come inside.  He’d gone to check on his own place.  I don’t think he realized how bad the situation could have been, until he saw the water rise to the level of my doorstep.  I had begged him not to leave because the water wasn’t only standing in our otherwise grassy lawn, but by that time, there was a current.

I didn’t want to leave without him.  I waited.

Within about fifteen more minutes the water started to go down.  I had a feeling the worst of the storm had passed, but the rescue team suggested that we leave in case of another downpour.

The water level had gone down enough so that Ruthie would walk on the sidewalk.  Three firefighters were at my door.  My son had told them I needed help.

“Where is my son?” I asked the men.

“He’s at the club house playing pool,” one answered.

Apparently, he wasn’t alone.  Floods are common and expected at this property.  Management opens up the club house for folks to gather, watch TV and play pool.

Ruthie and I walked with the men.  They carried my bags.  They were most enthusiastic about their duty, which fire fighters tend to get.

I had only seen three men, until we rounded the corner of the building.  There were six more waiting for us.  I couldn’t believe my eyes!

Ten strong beautiful men waiting to rescue me!

Thank you for visiting dogkisses!

Note:  I was right about the storm’s end when the creek reached the level of my door and fortunately, we didn’t have damage to the inside of our homes.  I did not refuse the help when one of the men offered to lift me up on the back of their truck.  How could I?

She’s the Sweetest

RUTHIE

We walked down the corridor in the shelter for the second time. 

“Look at this one,” my friend curiously remarked.

She was the only dog not barking.  

We stopped to look, which is all I had planned on doing that day. 

“Oh,” my friend added.  “Her name is Ruthie.  How sweet.”

What an odd name for a dog, I thought to myself.

Ruthie.

Most dogs have exotic or quirky and whimsical names these days, it seems, but Ruthie is such a simple name, you know?

She put her paw up against the cage.  I touched it and so did my friend.

“She has puppy paws!” my friend exclaimed excitedly. 

My friend, Tiffany, was a dog whisperer in her own way.  Actually, she was more like a dog’s angel.  I was never sure whose side she was on when it came to her helping people and their beloved pets, a career which she had temporarily chosen.

“What do you mean puppy paws?” I asked.

“They’re soft!  Touch them,” Tiffany answered.

I’m pretty sure Ruthie became my dog the second I touched her paw and it was unusually soft!

“You should change her name,” the little boy who lived across the street from us told me the first day I took Ruthie out for a walk.

“Yeah!” agreed his young playmates.

“To what?” I asked, but none had an answer.

The children walked closer to us.  They tried petting Ruthie, but she became frightened by the youngest one.

She had been adopted for two weeks and returned to the shelter before I met her.  The shelter staff said the family had a toddler who was allergic to her.  That’s all they could tell me about her past.

Ruthie was indeed shedding a lot, but my gut told me it was from stress.  I was right too. 

After several days of living with me, she started to shine and I discovered, I had the softest dog in the world!  Everyone said so too.

I didn’t yet know she is also the sweetest, but I tell you, there isn’t one any sweeter than Ruthie is.

For the first few days of our lives together, her name came up for consideration.  Mostly because people remarked on how it wasn’t snazzy enough.

I forgot who it was, but somebody suggested that I read from the Book of Ruth in the Christian Bible. 

“In Ruth 1:16 and 17 Ruth tells Naomi, her Israelite mother in law, “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.”  (SOURCE: Wikipedia).

I read the story and I knew my girl had the perfect name.

Ruth was loyal to Naomi, even after her husband, Naomi’s son, died.  Naomi had lost her husband and later lost her other son, leaving her widowed and without children. 

According to the law of the land, Ruth could have left for a better life, but instead she chose to stay with Naomi.  She married again and gave Naomi a grandson.

How could I think of changing little Ruthie’s name after reading that!  I had been given a gift, I believed. 

In the spirit of dogs and the love they give, my gift was a new dog.

I needed rescuing and I fully embraced the love from my new four-legged friend who had come to save my life.

After taking Ruthie to the dog store to show her off and buy a pretty new collar, we went home and I looked over her papers from the shelter.

I was surprised to see that Ruthie’s overall grade was an A-.

How could such a sweet loving dog not get an A, I wondered, so I read on.

“Ruthie pulls back when people lean in toward her,” the report read.

To get an A, a dog must also lean in when strange humans try to pet them, which I found curious.  I mean, if I had been abused, and I could tell that Ruthie had, then I wouldn’t lean in when strangers come toward me either.

I knew I had a smart dog!

Ruthie Mae is the sweetest dog in the world

Ruthie in her element hunting insects!

Without Ruthie Mae, I may not be alive today.

Ruthie didn’t save me from a burning building.  I’m not blind.  I have both legs, which I’m grateful for, and both arms too.  I am not in a wheelchair.

I am disabled by illnesses most people can’t see with their eyes. 

These illnesses have changed my life, and me.  I spend more time alone than I did before I got sick. 

I’ve also experienced significant loss of connection and sense of belonging, both in community and family, as a direct result of disability.  I lost my career and many people have judged me for what they can’t see or understand. 

Ruthie is my medical companion animal.  She’s officially an emotional support dog.   

Ruthie gets me outside.

She helps me want to keep going when chronic illness takes away my hope.

Ruthie is a teacher, like all dogs, I believe.  She shows me what love looks like. 

She teaches me compassion, tenderness and acceptance. 

It’s hard to put into words what all Ruthie means to me and how she helps me live.

Ruthie Mae’s love and companionship is always there for me.  No matter how sick I get, she loves me.  I don’t have to put on a well face for Ruthie.

Just yesterday, I was sad.  Ruthie jumped up on the bed and put her little paws across my ankles.  She gently laid her head on my leg.

“You really are the sweetest dog in the world,” I told her.  The tears stopped and I couldn’t help but take joy from the love I felt.

I thought about the kind of life she could have had if she had been adopted by a healthier person and one who has more money than I do.  I imagined her running in an open field of grass with her pack.  Then, I remembered the story of Ruth. 

Perhaps if Ruthie could choose, I imagined, she might choose me over anyone else, no matter what they had to offer her.

One thing I know.  I am loved. 

Ruthie Mae’s Human Mom,
Michelle.

Thanks for visiting my blog!

Note:

This post is a follow up from the most recent one, “Help the Sweetest Dog in the World.” 

Thanks for reading, and if your heart moves you, please visit my campaign page here.

 


My Best Friend Walks on Four Legs

The original Miss ‘dogkisses’ is Ruthie Mae.  She’s from a royal bloodline!  I don’t know how such a grand dog ended up at the shelter, but she did, and I am one lucky woman to have met and adopted her!

Ruthie is home

Ruthie has been declared an Egyptian Beetle Hound Insect Hunter!  This makes her a very special dog.

I love her like I have all the dogs I’ve loved… Times ten!  Dog lovin’ is like that, I guess.  They are each special and unique.

Our Family Dog, a wonderful being!

I told you in a recent blog post about a camping trip with my family, and shared photos of the beautiful Blueridge mountains in North Carolina.

Ruthie is part of my small family, so of course, she went with us on our end of Summer, rather spontaneous outdoor adventure.

Alas.

I forgot Ruthie’s regular dog food.

It was several days after we returned home that Ruthie got an upset tummy.  Within 24 hours, her condition had become a veterinary emergency.  She had bloody diarrhea and was vomiting. 

We drove her to a nearby animal emergency clinic, which is also a teaching hospital, where I trust the doctors and staff.  I believed Ruthie was in the best hands around.  This gave me much comfort, but I was still afraid for my best friend and companion.

Since adopting Ruthie Mae in 2006, when she was about seven months old, I’ve never boarded or left her behind.  Watching her walk into the cage at the hospital clinic reminded me of when we first met, but it was a nice big cage and there were interns and residents who stayed in the room around the clock.  They doted over Ruthie.

Fortunately, she only had to stay in the hospital one night.  They gave her much needed fluids, intravenous medicines and watched her closely. 

She was diagnosed with possible HGE, but for sure a serious gastroenteritis, due to a change of diet and dietary indiscretion while camping.  Abdominal x-rays showed also three small rocks in her stomach and small intestines.  The surgeon said she believes Ruthie will pass the rocks without a problem.

I am very grateful that Ruthie Mae was able to receive good health care.  She’s relatively young, in otherwise good health, and has many years of loving left to offer!  

She has recovered very well, but she did have a setback when I tried to re-start her regular diet of salmon and sweet potato.  As a result, she’s back on a prescription food and two medications. 

Because of Ruthie’s sensitive digestive system, she may need more time to fully recover, but I think she will. 

I’m very happy to report that she is again recovering well! 

dogs are awesome

I am a dog, Mom. See my Nose?

Ruthie likes to put her nose to the ground when we walk.  It’s possible she got into something again (dietary indiscretion), when my son took her out for a short walk.  She’s fast and strong for a girl almost eight! 

I’m working on keeping her nose (and GI tract) clean, but I must admit, this takes constant attention.  We may have to get a special harness, but I’ll try training her first.  Walking without smelling stuff on the ground is against Ruthie’s nature, but that’s the way it has to be from now on.

As to what I’ll feed her in the future remains in question.

All you dogs out there, give a shout out to the sky or a great healing howl for Ruthie Mae!  She’s a beauty ain’t she!? 🙂

Thanks for visiting dogkisses, a blog, by a woman, who loves a dog!

UPDATE March 2014

Ruthie is now on a prescription diet.  It’s expensive, but so far, it is the only food that keeps her tender tummy at ease.   I’m hoping to meet with either the nutritionists at the school of veterinarian medicine, which is around $200.00, or meet with a holistic vet to discuss other options for Ruthie’s diet.

We have incurred a lot of medical expenses since Ruthie was hospitalized in September, but the tests helped us to rule out common diseases and also, x-rays and ultra sound did not show impressive findings.

Ruthie Mae may well have HGE, but she has also been diagnosed with Intestinal Bowel Disease and will most likely be on a special diet for the rest of her life, which I hope is a very long and healthy one!

You may give to my campaign at www.GoFundMe.ruthiemae (Link is also on my right sidebar in this blog).

My goal is to raise money to help me pay off the debts from the medical bills, so that I may better provide for Ruthie’s ongoing healthcare needs.

Thanks for reading about Ruthie Mae!

Into the Hills

The mountains have pulled on my heart-strings all Summer long.  I guess when the end of August approached, I felt an urgency to go into the hills, and so I did.

The Devil's Garden Overlook on the Blueride Parkway in North Carolina

The Devil’s Garden

Click on above image for a closer view of The Devil’s Garden Overlook

We first arrived at Stone Mountain state park in North Carolina without a reservation.  The trout-laden creek makes the area especially desirable to fisher-people (most of whom are men and boys).  The park ranger instructed us to keep driving north, which I didn’t mind too much.  The higher up we went, the cooler the weather became, and we found a nice little spot to camp. 

I’m not sure that the area we were in is specifically what the Cherokee called, Shoconage, meaning, “The Land of Blue Smoke,” but we did see the blue hue over the mountains and the clouds did look a bit like blue smoke.

My son and I went on our first mountain camping trip when he was only five years old.  I was pretty young myself.  We had joined a friend who was always saying that I should give camping a try.  He was right.

Oddly, after more than twenty years and many outdoor adventures later, I find myself longing for and returning to that same area of the Blue Ridge mountains in North Carolina, Doughton Park Recreation Area, where my son and I first camped with our friend. 

The rolling green hills and awesome views always make me feel like I’m in the right place.  Happily, my son still enjoys coming along with me to camp.

“What do you think would make you feel better?” my son had asked, several days before I decided to pack my gear and go camping.

“I’d like to sleep under the stars and wake up when the sun rises,” I told him.  “I want to feel the rhythm of nature.”

Little did I know that only a few days later, my wishes would come true.

We could only camp for a few nights.  Neither of us wanted to leave, but I hadn’t packed well enough to stay longer and was tired of driving to the store, which was twenty-some miles away.  Twenty mountain miles make for a pretty ride, but feel like fifty when you’re tired.

My favorite part of the trip was on the second day when my son and I had a heart-to-heart talk.  He was more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time.  We both remarked on the good night’s sleep we had each experienced.

There’s something about sleeping outdoors, feeling the wind blow, listening to the sound of nature without background noise and tuning into the rhythm of nature that brings clarity to the mind.  Perhaps Mother Nature unfolds a veil.

My next favorite part of our short trip was sitting by the fire, which was the night I removed the rain-fly from our tent, providing me with my second wish the following morning; an awesome view of the sun rising above the mountain. 

On our way home, we drove down to the creek at Stone Mountain State Park, where we spent the day by, “the small falls.”  We enjoyed local sour apples and tart blueberries.  My son and our dog rested on the flat rocks.  I chased a pretty little black and blue butterfly.

Water Energy is a Green Healing

The Small Falls

Butterfly Beautiful

Two children, a girl and an older boy, came to play and of course, they loved our dog, sweet little Ruthie Mae.  Everybody loves Ruthie. 

They were mountain people.  The boy looked about eleven years old. 

“You want me to take her down to the water for you?” he asked. 

Ruthie Mae feels my stress and one way she shows this is by pulling on her leash when we walk, which she’s been doing off and on for a couple of months.

“Sure,” I said to the boy. 

I trusted him right away with my dog, which is unusual.

“C’mon girl,” he said in a lovely Carolina mountain accent.  “C’mon now.  We’re gonna go right down here.  Okay?  There ya go.”

His way with her made me feel good.  I love seeing her happy and she was smiling.

I could tell he had been to those falls many times.  He had a sure foot and the younger girl with him did as well.  I liked him and so did Ruthie.

Ruthie’s enthusiastic walking didn’t seem to affect him.  He continued talking to her in his kind voice and down the craggy path they went toward a sandy spot by the water. 

“You’re really good with her,” I told him.

“Yeah,” he said.  “I been ’round dogs all my life.  I can tell she’s a good one.” 

For a moment, I could imagine him being a grown man and what he would be like.  I imagined a gentle man in the making.

He and Ruthie Mae didn’t get to play together for long because his mother’s cell phone wouldn’t work.  I liked that mine didn’t work.  I figured the woman had to be available for some important reason. 

After the boy and his family left, Ruthie joined my son for a nap on one of the big flat rocks by the water.  He made a soft place for her and she cuddled up next to him.  I occupied myself chasing the pretty black and blue butterfly that liked the sand.

I wanted to stay.  I mean, I really wanted to stay and I almost did, but I had responsibilities waiting and not enough money to do whatever I wanted.  I wish I could go back and stay for the rest of Summer.

(You can click on any photo in the gallery to view a slide show)

Ruthie Mae’s Birthdays

Ruthie Mae is a happy dog!

My Companion Smiling

My sweet dog, Ruthie Mae, will have two birthday celebrations this year.  We recently enjoyed the first one, but at the end of the day, I realized her true birthday is most likely in early November.  As you can see from the photo (above), Ruthie was having fun.

We went to the awesome dog food and supply store, where people are only allowed inside because we must pay for our goods.

Ruthie’s favorite treat is a meat chew called a, “Bully Stick.”  The store stocks these chewy treasures in bins exactly the height of an average size dog’s nose.  I’m glad they don’t put the really big (and expensive) ones in those bins!

The dog park is on our way home from town so we stopped in, but it was late in the evening by then, so there was only one dog and he wasn’t social.  Darkness had set in and we went home.

I was happy to have accidentally celebrated with Ruthie.  We both needed time for fun and joy.  I’m excited to celebrate again in Fall.

Thank you for visiting my dogkisses blog.  My apologies for not being able to write more often.  Life is challenging me in several ways lately, but I am managing to have a little fun once in a while.  I hope to get my writing groove back before the year is over.

Here is a link to my other blog, Green Healing Notes, where I posted a photo of a pretty butterfly I saw a few days ago.

 

A friend with paws

A lovely poem by a young girl who loves a dog

 Ruthie Mae

She’s as beautiful as a bay

She loves to play

She loves it when I tell her to sit and stay

She gets mad when I don’t say hey

She loves to drink lattes

She was born in May

She loves to run and walk on a beautiful day.

Golden fur like Autumn leaves

When we run together we feel the breeze

I’ll chase the dragonflies

She’ll chase the bees

She gives me her paw

when I’m on my knees

She gives me her paw

Then I know

She’ll be there with me through it all.

Ruthie Mae,

Ruthie Mae.

A lovely poem written by and offered as a gift from my sweet and dear friend about her relationship with and her love for my dog, sweet Ruthie. 

“She gives me her paw when I’m on my knees.  She gives me her paw, then I know she’ll be there with me through it all.”  –by a girl who loves a dog!

Image via Wikimedia Commons (File: Joshua Reynolds – A Young Girl and Her Dog.jpg)

Thanks for visiting Dogkisses’s blog!

Refusing defeat

Sometimes life is hard, but we must keep on going

IMAGE CREDIT: LESLIE SIGAL JAVOREK

Have you ever had a day where your body should have given out but it didn’t?  A day when you were amazed that you could stand up, much less walk a mile or more, but you did it?   A day when your tasks ahead weighed more than the world yet you couldn’t quit? A day when by night fall you finally looked at your phone contacts, your friends or maybe family, but you realized that you had to go at it alone?

I couldn’t remember what time I had gotten up that morning.  But then I wasn’t sure if I had gone to bed the night before.  I had slept, but when and where I wondered.  On my sofa?  In my guest room?  It didn’t matter.  I had a million things on my mind at once.

Finding a parking space at the hospital right away was a good thing, even though it irritated me that I had to endure the enthusiastic folks we share our hospital parking lot with for certain events.  I wasn’t in any mood for celebrating.  Plus, anything had potential in irritating me.  I was keeping up with any good things and not having to walk half a mile to the elevator was one good thing.

I had stopped at the ATM on my way but was too tired to get out of my car.  Somehow walking from the parking deck to the hospital seemed easier than taking the time to get some cash to pay for Valet parking.  I was not thinking clearly.

I forgot the number of my parking space but it was too late to turn back.  I knew what level of the deck I was on.  That was good enough.  On to the other million-minus-one thoughts taking over my mind.

“I love the way you walk,” someone I once knew used to say to me.  “You walk strong and tall with confidence.”

Oddly, I remembered this as I was passing people while crossing the walking bridge.  I slowed down and took shorter steps.

I began thinking about how severely fatigued I was.  It was more than fatigue.  I kept spacing out.  Earlier that day when I was feeding the dogs I had already measured their food and put it in their bowls, yet I stood there, staring off into space with their full bowls on the counter.  Both dogs stood by me waiting and watching, obviously wondering what was up with their human.  Finally, our older dog, who has a deep bark and only speaks one time when he has something to say gave one strong,  “Rrruuuff!”

The sound brought me back to the moment.  I put their bowls on the floor.  I thanked my dog.  He had done his job.  The perfect therapy dog and he hasn’t even been trained.

Walking slowly across the bridge, the past 48 hours of stress rolled around in my mind.   I was hungry and tired, but I was still going.  I had a bag of clothes for my son on one shoulder and a leather purse on the other.  They felt like they weighed a ton, but they didn’t.

I told myself I didn’t need to walk strong and tall.  I didn’t need to be confident.  I decided to walk the way I felt.

There was a peaceful feeling in accepting the physical weakness.  I felt confidence in not hiding.

The cafe was at the entrance I chose, but time wasn’t on my side.  I continued on.  The hospital’s walkway to the elevator seemed more daunting than ever before.

Acutely aware of pain and fatigue, I started to walk how I felt.  Another person I know used to say, “You gotta walk through it man.  Whatever it is, you gotta walk through it.”

A hospital is a fine place to collapse I thought.  I might walk through it, but I wasn’t sure that I would make it to my destination.

Reaching the elevator I noticed some wonderful photographs on the wall.  I was captured for a moment and then I saw the coffee shop sign.  Slowly I moved on, carrying my bags and my body.  The pastries caught my eye.

“Can I help with you anything Mam?”

I heard something in her voice.  Was she responding to what I was feeling I wondered or was it the striking red streaks in my eyes?  I wasn’t indulging in my feelings or I would have fallen down in a puddle of tears.  I desperately wanted a friend.  If ever I needed a shoulder to lean on, this was one of those times.

“I’m going to look at your pastries,” I said to the woman in the coffee shop, but she looked concerned, which she was.

She walked around to my side of the counter bringing me a glass of water.   My eyes were so tired I couldn’t read the labels on the drinks.  I chose a plastic juice for my son and a bottled soda for myself.  I looked at the pastries, but I didn’t want anything.

“Do you want some real food or a snack?” the woman asked me.  “We have these egg and sausage croissants and…”  I forgot what else she offered.  Nothing sounded good.  I was trying to keep myself composed.  “What about peanut butter and jelly?” she continued.

“These are the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I’ve ever had,” she said.  “They have peanut butter on both sides and jelly in the middle.  I’m serious.  They’re the best.”

“Yes.  I like peanut butter.  I’ll take one of those,” I said.  My words were barely audible.  My voice shook.  My hands shook.  I slowly put my bags on the floor and paid the bill.  I was able to smile.

I began to feel a little better.  This stranger’s genuine concern warmed my spirit,  lifting some the weight of the world I feel on my soul.

I remembered the last time my son was in the hospital.  I had a shoulder to lean on that time.   He had driven to the hospital as soon as he could when I told him what was happening.  He waited with me in the emergency room lobby for several hours.  He bought me snacks.  He held my hand.  I felt strong having someone there for me, while I was there for my son.   Times like this was why I believed the man who came for me truly loved me.  I was wrong.

As I crossed a walking bridge on my way to the elevator, I saw my shadow.  Strangely, it gave me strength.  I remembered a part of who I am.  I remembered that I am strong.  I felt stronger alone with my shadow, than I had with a person who was only pretending to be my friend.

I decided to refuse to be defeated by the day and instead, embrace the desperate way I felt inside.

My visit with my son was not so great.  He didn’t feel like talking.  There were several people around.  Two women were sitting close by us.  One talked too much.  I wanted to talk to my son but he didn’t feel like it.  The other woman stared at me the entire time.  I felt like she was looking into my soul.  She told me her name.  I said hi and we shook hands.  She kept on staring at me.

“Is he your husband?” she finally asked me.

“No.  He’s my son,” I told her.

I used to feel complimented when people said I looked like my son’s sister, but now, I really only want to look like his mother.

“You look sad,” the young woman added.

“Yes,” I responded.  “I’m sad.”

 

Thank you for visiting Dogkisses’s blog.