Toby is the rescue dog a neighbour walks about this time every day. When Toby sees me on the porch he steers his human Mommy towards me, climbs the porch steps for his treat(s). It is my great pleasure to participate in this little game.
The question, “Who rescued who?”, comes to mind.
It is a beautiful day to wait for Toby, pleasant, sunny with a gentle breeze. The bird feeder needs refilling now that the squirrels have discovered it, filled, again. I will need to water the plants too. The roses have bloomed, at least the red buds are opening. The day lilies are getting ready for their show in June.
I had an odd dream where money, sex and power came my way, via some surreal magic, at the Richmond Headquarters of the Fifth District of the Federal Reserve Bank. I once worked in that building for a now defunct insurance brokerage, as my life, career, and marriage fell apart. That was thirty years ago, almost precisely at this time of year.
We always think our deliverance from Evil will be somehow Biblical in its unfolding. More precisely we think our deliverance will come with movie special effects, like The Red Sea parting in Cecil B. deMille’s The Ten Commandments. Deliverance works on God’s time. That was the beginning of the endgame. It needed another three years to play through til recovery and divorce came about, and a new life began. But it began there, when I, carrying a single wall corrugated box, filled with my personal items, was escorted from the building by an armed security guard.
Sadly, I’m rambling. Blogs don’t have editors, so I can ramble, unchecked, as I careen through the blogosphere. Toby isn’t here yet. My coffee is lukewarm and bird feeder is still empty.
Check out the rose. This rose is more precious to me than my whole time in insurance.