When I was younger, I really wanted to be a firefighter. It was cliched, I know. Most youngsters at some point wanted the action figure life. To be that hero, you know.
And some wanted to be a superhero. Yeah, I was guilty of that fantasy too. But that was a story for another time.
So when I was watching out the window today and a fire truck drove by with its flashing lights, I was once again pulled into my linger dreams of a younger me.
Oh, how I wanted to drive that shiny red truck, wear the yellow hats and face down the flames of a roaring fire. I wanted to save the day, every day.
Part of me still did. Didn’t we all cling to at least a bit of the innocent dreams we spun before we understood the realities of those yearnings? The bit of us that hadn’t let go of who we thought we would be? Who we dreamed we would be?
But the other part of me, the more mature part, had come to realize the life of a firefighter was less of a hero and more of a saint. And I didn’t think I was that noble.
Here’s to the heroes and saints in every walk of life,
PS. By the way, did I ever tell you, my buddy and pal, Mercer from The Doggy Den, was a true-life drug dog? And then he trained to be a therapy dog. Now that was a superhero!
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When I hear the phrase, ‘Sorry Jack, you have to stay home,’ I throw some serious shade in return, which translated from dog speak to the human language means:
‘I don’t think you understand the enormity of your decision or thought through all the consequences, therefore, I am giving you one more chance to change your mind and take me with you. Go ahead. Give serious thought to what the next few hours will be like without me to brighten your day.
x = me + my human x activities and objects that bring happiness + comfort/hours in the day.
x = home.
I call this my happiness quotient. The more I am at home chillaxing with my human and my toys the happier I am.
Often for me, there is a little distinction between the idea of home and my feelings when I am home. It almost seems as if who I am and where I am become one. Can I separate myself from home, the foundation of my being?
I have discovered that when you wake up in the middle of the night it can be the most lonely corner of the world.
You plead with your mind to surrender your body to sleep, hoping for dreams to carry you back to where life is fluid and easy, a beautiful release from reality. Cuz it’s hard to hide sadness at 2 am. It’s a long time before the sun rises and the anonymity of the dark begs you to share your deepest pain.
Your secrets scream for release in the night stillness.
If you have been there, you will know these are the times for savoring heartache and hurt. The glorious sadness that is grief.
I put my head down and started to drift off to sleep.
I really wanted to play with my yellow bug-eyed toy; the one that was right behind me, but I couldn’t muster a sufficient amount of energy to even turn around, let alone raise the full length and weight of my body from the comfortable pose into which I had snuggled.
I sighed, took a deep breath and relaxed fully into dreamland.
Maybe later I would get up and chase my yellow bug-eyed toy around the room.
Today was turning out to be one of those days.
One of those days when my body wouldn’t listen to my mind.
It was almost a mind vs body battle.
I wonder why that happens. And who started the fight?