Walking the dog

I've been comparatively busy this past month, visiting friends in Texas for a week, getting ready for my daughter's baby shower. While in Texas I made it through what would have been my son's 25th birthday. I spent the morning walking and letting myself remember lots of happy memories, as well as some sad ones. It's okay to hurt, it's okay to feel, because then after I rant
and rave I can calm down and get back closer to normal. It's when I totally try to suppress the pain that it builds and becomes intolerable and freezes me.

This morning I made fondant for decorating the cupcakes I am taking to the shower, and I'm very happy about the way my sample turned out. Before cleaning up I needed to give my back a break, and having missing my morning walk decided we needed to go out. As I put on my walking shoes I asked my pup Kaylee if she wanted to go for a walk. Yes, yes, she pantomimed, bouncing around me and giving me kisses as I bent down to tie my laces. We headed out, me listening to "The Return of the King" on tape and her sniffing, sniffing, sniffing everything we passed. This is only possible because her nose is longer than her legs, and as she trots along her nose is at the ground without effort, sweeping this way and that, scoping out our path. We have walked to the pond and back enough times now that she knows what to expect. She knows I will let her say hello to the black and white cat that hangs out in front of the house we pass just before hitting the bike path that borders the water. And she remembers we have a place to rest a bit when we are about half way. A mile walk is fairly easy for me, but she will be panting before we reach home, having run almost the whole way. As we walk I can't help but notice how bright the day is, with big fat white clouds lumbering across a blue sky, their soft grey bottoms releasing the occasional raindrop. But mostly it's sunny, the wind a wonderful counter to the heat, and I feel blessed to have such a beautiful day to walk in, and such a wonderful companion to walk with.

Tomorrow my SO and I are going to an archery shoot, and will spend the day tramping around the hills. Kaylee is not trained well enough to go with us yet, but shows great promise. She listens well, and I have taken her to our local range with great success, so next Spring she will be going to shoots with us. Funny how it has taken the love of a little dog to help me start caring about life again.

A note about the homicide case: both defendants have been formally sentenced, the man who actually hit and killed my son was given a deal for lack of physical evidence, so he will only get 14 years. The DA's office is of the opinion that with his record, he will extend that by either misbehaving in prison, or breaking parole once out. It's taking me some time to assimilate this, I waited two years for the trial, and now it's all over, done, finished. Weird, strange, wrong...I miss my son, I want nothing more than to hug him and tell him everything is going to be okay. As time goes by and his memory doesn't fade I become less afraid of losing him; in some small measure it is like a part of him is still with me, and that will have to make do for the rest of my life. Big Sigh. But now I catch myself becoming morose, and that means it's time to log off and find something positive...like the joy I find in my little dog. It's not just the devil that's in the details.