Happy who I am.
We should all feel the same way.
No need to argue.
Results don’t matter.
Put your love into the world.
That’s your greatest gift.
Actors and awards,
living their dreams and ours dreams.
Do we really care?
You define beauty.
People can think what they want.
You must prove them wrong.
I feel the need to write this morning, an actual post, not just a haiku. I haven’t written an actual post on this site in a long time. I save it for journals, or a book I’ve convinced myself I’d write this month, or maybe an email to a friend. Today, I feel uneasy. I can’t explain it. Ok, maybe I can. Whenever there is a fly in the room with my dog she starts to shake. She can’t control the shaking and it then throws me off. She did it last night at 10pm while I was watching television trying to fall asleep, I had to throw her off the bed and have her sleep on the floor. I hate it when the dog sleeps on the floor because, during the multiple bathroom trips I take in the evening, I’m afraid she is going to sneak out of my room and torture my housemate. My housemate is fine with it. I am not. So, I just end up sleeping with the door to my bedroom open and that frightens me.
I’m a 40 year old man who is still afraid of the boogie monster. Well, that’s a revelation. I’ve always had a fear of being attacked, it’s irrational, I know. Or is it? I have a twin brother and when we were in the womb he ate most of the food, so am I responding to that? Of course he was the one that slept with the baseball bat under the bed when we were kids in case anyone tried to attack me, so I give him credit for that. Do we really hold on to these things throughout our lives? Is this my own form of PTSD? Is anyone else 40 and afraid of the boogie monster? Please tell me I’m not alone.
It’s raining, I’m tired, the dog is fine and the damn fly is probably hiding for it’s next attack, tonight. The boogie monster didn’t get me last night but there is always tonight.
Yesterday my house mate and I learned that one of her friends dogs had been hit by a car. I know this is a weird way to start a post about being happy, it gets even morbid. I knew the friend was in New York City and the dog was here with us in the Berkshires. I could see the expression on my house mates face, and I knew what was coming. The friend in New York City lives up here in a big house with an older woman. The woman was out at an appointment when the dog got hit by a car. The people that found the dog wrapped her up in a blanket and deposited her on the front porch. The friend, that was in the city, asked my housemate to go over to the house and move the body so that they old woman would not find the dog. I saw the look on her face and offered to go help.
We did it. It wasn’t fun. It was sad and when I got back to the office I picked my dog up and held her in my arms and that made me happy. The love we have for our companions is amazing. Coincidentally my dog has the same name as the friends dog who passed yesterday.
I’m thinking about turning these posts into gratitude posts instead of happy posts. I’m grateful for my dog. I’m grateful that I was able to be the friend that I needed to be in that moment.