Milestones

A pile of milestones, mine & other peoples’. I don’t think everyone collects them the way I do - wake up, note date, memories flood in. I imagine many live rarely-to-never considering this day last year, 6 years ago, when they were 10 years old. FB & Time Hop butt-in now, nudging some event you cared enough to share once. You’ve got HBDs and Happy Annis on your calendar, because otherwise, they’d go un-wished. Me, I know your damn birthday by heart & remember what you wore on it when we were 8.

I’m not commenting on merits really – you are surely doing a superior job to me of living in the now, in the present moment; well-adjusted, enlightened – blissful. Sometimes I do feel haunted by the inability to not remember, re-live, reflect, ruminate - worry stones.

But overall, I love my pile of milestones.

In the end aren’t our memories among just a few real possessions (if we’re lucky enough not to lose them), along with relationships and our impact on others? You still can’t take them with you, but so close.

7/1/11: I let go of the second aging, ailing, soul-altering dog to leave me behind in a span of 7 weeks. Finest dog I knew. Vilomahed. Empty house, empty heart. Forever too soon. A dog mom adrift, 27 days.

7/28/11: I drove to ACCAC, swirling anticipation. The moment of rescue itself is actually fuzzy, just the eyes. The sharp blue of the inmate who handed me my pathetic, petrified, parasite-compromised “cupcake” (brown puddles, one wandering), who I already knew was Briar Rose.

The first year was rough: vomit, vets, demodex, neophobia. The second was, still rough: anxiety, avoidance, reactivity. All for good reason, just as intended, to make us who we are today…this decade has been filled with failures, insecurity, learning, grace, triumphs, acceptance. Then and now, when I look at her face, I see my own face.

I am humbled by the absolute village of people who have helped me to raise & love & spoil this girl – you are too many to name & you know exactly who you are. 🤍, Briar Rose’s mom