Detachment. Attachment. Arm and arm. Difficult companions, each pulling in a different direction. Tragicomic.
The tears still come, like they do for millions upon millions of souls around the planet. And, ah, Buddhism! I am supposed to think about those souls, with compassion, and yet not think about them. My own sadness counts, and does not count, in the grand scheme of things. If this is not crazy-making, I don’t know what is.
“I am not attached to my tears,” I would tell the smiling Buddha. And he would say, “Then why are you telling me about them?”
This morning, after the girls went to school, I continued cleaning, sorting, sifting through the rubble. Much of it will have to go. This house just does not have enough room for the detritus of what is now my “before” life.
It was just me and Nina, my sweet old Chow/shepherd mix. Eli is on a sleepover with W. Guy bonding in the woods. Wonderful for them both.
Girl bonding, here. Nina and I are both aging, it’s clear now. My knees crackle on the stairs; she chews her kibble gingerly, eats little, sleeps much.
This morning, she and I let the stairs climb themselves, and we let the kibble sit, untouched. We shared a bagel while I cried. Nina watches me closely, not just for the promise of cream cheese on a bagel. She watches me with large amber eyes, a faithful orange shadow, my first daughter.
I talked to her while I cleaned, while I looked at applications for jobs, social work schools, medical assistant courses. I talked to her while I poured myself another cup of coffee, tried to clean the kitchen with napkins (out of paper towels again). I told her I didn’t know for sure why I was crying this morning. I told her I was sorry I haven’t walked her enough, haven’t given her the kind of life a red dog left tied to a bus stop in Harlem should have. She regarded me solemnly, as if to say, “Enough. Enough. It’s all enough.”
Funny how the tears creep up, insist on having their way, out of the blue. I wonder if it will ever feel enough, if I will ever feel safe, secure. I wonder if I will ever feel like I have done enough for those in my care, canine and human.
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