It doesn’t look like much. Just a little white-and-pink rope with two big knots in it. It doesn’t really belong with the other writing stuff, Bird By Bird. The Writer’s Market, books signed by Keillor, Simon, Alexie(bet they would never share another room ever.)
But my dog used to drop this in here when she’d stop playing to come sit under my desk and look like she was going to say “ You start off strong, but that second graf sucks. You can do better than that. I know you can.” Sometimes I used to joke that she was just waiting for my net connection, but she was the world’s furriest proofreader, I think. There were words she really didn’t seem to like.”Okie-dokey” was one. She heard somebody say it in her youth and she turned her face away. So of course, Mom said it a lot to watch her do that, and she always did.
That last illness was short but brutal, and she died with her rope thing dropped where she left it when she woke up too sick to play with it. I thought there was no other place it should be, but where the writing happens. I touch it for luck.
Oh erika, wow.
And Ginger, I love the light-up Santa.
Yeah, Bev. Having her stuff in here, including her collar and tags makes it feel a little like she is here with me. ButI kind of like to think of some other family in trouble raising the Best Puppy in the World, too.
erika has made my allergies act up. I think that good dogs are always with us, because where else would they be happy?
Drabble #mumblemumble, Talisman (word count: 100)
...
The last time this urge overcame me, Scott was cuddling Christopher. I joined them. Julia jumped in.
It hit.
I called Benjamin into the room and fray, on some pretense. Stealth is hard earned in the midst of a pig pile. I tugged up one sleeve at a time--with my teeth. With my bare right arm around the back of Scott’s exposed neck, my fingers holding onto Julia’s hand, my left hand touching Ben’s arm, and my cheek pressed against Christopher’s, I made skin-to-skin contact with each and all, at the same time. This is my most sacred prayer.
(Scott just said nobody is going to comment. Next time, I'm only making contact with the kids. *shaky fist*)
I think it's lovely, Cindy, the sort of fierce love mothers have, and the almost superstitious touching of the beloved, as if to make sure they're still here, still real, and the being sneaky with it, to not alarm the loved by the ferocity of that love.
erika made me mist up, damn it.
And Scott's full of crap. I adored that, Cindy.
Scott wanted to use the PC for "work" or whatever.
Back off my toy, buster.
(Thanks Beverly and deb)
