For Today

"His name is Boo."
He was a very ugly dog.
"Was he born close to Halloween?"
"No. They named him Malibu at the shelter. I got him when he was ten years old. He'd been there a long time. Everyone just passed by his cage."
I nodded. I would have been one of those people.
"He's old, and blind, but I wrangled my husband into getting him." She smiled, "Now the two of them are best friends."
I smiled back; imagining this old woman with her shawl wrapped against the cold, leaning over her cane, convincing her husband to give this tiny, ugly dog a chance to know love.


I never thought I'd be the kind of person to cry at work. I've always thought that when people cry at work, it's just weakness. Something you have to grows from.

I always hope I'm done growing.

I say I know I won't be. Asked point-blank, I'd say I'd never want to be. But I always hope I've arrived.

But then I cried at work.
I'm a high-strung perfectionist who thrives on verbal affirmation and I work in customer service.
Of course I've cried at work.
Of course I'm not done growing.
Of course this old woman in a shawl in the cold would show me the part of me that would not want to love the old, tiny, blind, ugly dog.

I had a bad attitude today.

Traffic was worse than usual. So we all drove like it was everyone else's fault.

I pass over a bridge on my way home. There's a lake and a dock and a small landing below the bridge. The sun always sets on the water, and every day I tell myself when I have time, I'll stop to watch the sunset.

Today I had time.

I kept my promise to me.

I pulled into a parking spot in the grass between two palm trees.

Next to me, an elderly couple, parked facing the water. They spoke to each other. She smiled.

I smiled.

He looked grumpy, but endearing.

I put in my headphones, and leaned against a tree by the waterfront.

Picnic tables were behind me. I turned to see a family coming up from the dock to the tables.

They were young. They were in love. Their children's noses were red.

For all the complaining I did today, I was thankful to see this young family teaching their children to stop at beautiful things.

A car honked from the highway on the bridge. An angrier honk answered.

Today, I'm glad that peaceful, beautiful things live in the messiness.

I get to go downtown now, to laugh with friends who love me well. I get to wake up tomorrow and do better at my job than I did today.

I get to be alive, and think and feel it all.

I'm thankful for the consistency of peace.

For the choice to see it.

For the chance to grow.

For today.