It's been an up-and-down week. There's a lot to figure out, things that I feel are going to end up saying a lot about who I am, and what my life is going to be. And that weight is already sitting atop a weakened structure of will and belief.
The biking helps. Visiting with my friend Julia and her daughter Daniella helped.
This morning felt empty again, though. I woke up a little late, got ready, got on the bike.
A few nights ago, driving home with my friend Amber from a party, I saw a little dog running manically beside Lamar, across the front of a used car dealership. We stopped, and I tried to get the dog to come to me. It hardly stopped to size me up, barked, and continued running. Trying to circle around it, trying to be patient, nothing worked. It just got farther and farther away from me. Something felt vaguely familiar about it all.
This morning, I turned left across the traffic at Lamar, pedaled hard to cross to the far right lane, and to get up to the speed of the traffic. A block down, I was able to let up a little. The wind in my face, though hot and sticky, was good.
There, on the curb of the car dealership, was a little ragged white and brown form. I don't know if someone had dragged him to the side, or if he had crawled there. I don't know how long he had been dead. He still had his collar and tags. I thought about turning back, checking the tags and calling the owners, but it would be obvious to the people at the car lot, which would be opening soon, and I had faith they'd take care of it.
Maybe it was the wrong choice on my part. It's not the one I'd usually make. But today, I couldn't stand the thought of finally catching up to the little dog, when it was far too late.
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