I sure hope you're not surfing over here expecting tips on Christmas ham or 10 new kinds of cookies. Ha! Not this week! Last night, Wyatt made his own bagel sandwich for dinner. Loretta made Top Ramen. Later, I had toast with smashed avocado and blue cheese. And a bowl of popcorn once the house was quiet. I'm sure I've mentioned how Top Raman is truly revered in this house. It's sodium-packed empty calories have soothed a lot of trials.
I've talked to a few folks lately who report they're forgetting to love, cherish, or take care of themselves. This poem was born out of experiencing the kind of loyalty, presence, and love that I think is available to us all the time if only we'll stop and accept it. In whatever form it comes.
My Deepest me is Dog
I feel like a jerk half the time--
hurrying kids out the door,
mumbling under my breath
at an irritating driver or
sudden rainstorm, putting off
important things that need doing.
But he adores me anyway,
following from room to room,
curling up wherever I am,
starting straight into
those deepest parts of me that,
despite my best efforts,
are infinitely, pefectly loveable.