It’s 5 am and I wake up drenched in a menopausal night sweat. It’s reminding me that I’m still here. My mind races to review the day ahead. I listen to my husband snore, and I start to write future blogs in my mind.
A half hour later our one dog pants and coughs. She is almost 15 and a Golden Retriever. She is 100 in human years, I’m calculating. I'll need to take her outside through the garage today. She can no longer do steps.
As I walk outside, I pray passing cars or my 98-year-old neighbor doesn't see me in my pj's, glasses and bed head. It's foggy and it doesn't matter anyway
Our dog Kya starts to head down the driveway and looks wistfully ahead into the fog. She remembers our walks. She remembers her youth. I do too. I help her to the back yard. Her legs are wobbly, but her tail wags. She gazes up at me with a smile only a Golden Retrievers can. I smile back at her graying muzzle and milky eyes; life is a gift and too short
Back inside I make sure my teen isn't oversleeping. He sleepily shuffles out to the kitchen. He reminds me I have to drive him today because he has to transport equipment back to school. I almost forgot! My daydreaming and coffee time will be on hold for now
I feed my pets and I give my elderly dogs their medications. I keep a watchful eye to make sure everyone one mind their own food.
I take a photo of the four of them and our routines The photo isn't Instagram worthy. I could be judged for feeding cats on the table. Our cabinets are scratched and desperately need to be refinished. Yet, this moment is imperfectly perfect.
I make my oatmeal and coffee and pick up a mug that says, “got candy” It’s my son's and was the first mug in rotation
I think of all I have to do today. Soon I’ll have to transport my son to school. I have clients to get back to, a business to run, an appointment for myself.
My husband has an appointment today for a new health diagnosis. I will meet him at the doctors. It's a new territory for us both of us, but we will navigate this together.
It's 6:40 am, and my coffee and oatmeal are cold I have to continue my day.
I needed to write. It is raw and imperfect, like life is. Like I am.
Happy Tuesday
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Coffee. Sitting in my comfy chair. My black English lab Alvin sleeping softly on his huge bed after 6a every morn clock work . His gait slooooo on his morn pee n poop. Our harbor right outside glass doors. Warm for MI. A bit muggy. My children all grown with little ones of their own. So far . Very far from me. Embrace your teenager, snoring husband and aging golden. Our dogs are deeply ingrained in our spirits. A time marker of age and loss. You are a great writer. I’ll keep reading..
This is a beautiful snapshot. I hope your husband's health improves.