He was boisterous. He peed and pooped everywhere. He had big feet and a silly ridge on his back. He looked at me for something. I had nothing to give. I was consumed. I was spent. He wanted my attention. He wanted to take me from my black pup. My loyal friend who started the most important journey of my life with me.
She sat on my lap. She smothered me when I brought my newborn baby boy home. She was loyal when I left her alone while I slipped off with baby boy #1, #2 and #3. She was there. She was loyal. She waited patiently every night to all was calm. She laid next to my bed. She woke when I woke. My girl.
Brown dog wanted me and I couldn’t give to him. She needed me. My boys needed me. My business needed me. My sleep requested my presence. My sanity called out to me. But ole’ brownie, well he was, the push to my swing.
Looking back May 2013 something, he was put into my life to make me swing high. To pump those legs faster. To try to reach for the tree tops. To never stop swinging. He was terrible but exactly what I needed to walk down that aisle. To walk down it with my head held high. To take off the glimmer, the shine and the 4 C’s that aren’t always a girl’s best friend. To replace that glitz, those infinite promises not fulfilled with a smile. To free the left hand ring finger of the bounds of unhappiness. To open my eyes and heart to what lay ahead.
The aisle was narrow. It felt clausterphobic. I felt like I wouldn’t be able to breathe but then it got wider. It eventually lead me to the road. A curvy road. A quiet, lonely road with no signs, no directionals, no end in sight. I kept going. I kept going for Holly girl and the strength she showed me. Revert back to post http://wp.me/p2eEsV-cy. I kept going for my boys.
Now that I’m rounding the last few months of the back 9 of the 30 course, I love, I’ve grown and I heal. I see the end of the curvy road and realize it is only the beginning. That boys are awesome because they see through the drama. That authenticity is a rarity. That those who “think” they are real are really just cowards. For if they knew real and did real, they wouldn’t humor. They wouldn’t use sarcasm to wash away the dirt or throw more at you. They’d confront. They’d tell you off for mother fricken sake.
I love. I know that red wine doesn’t always stain. That Whiskey can heal sore gums in infanthood and beyond. I know that for every bad deed you do, you can do double the good deeds. I know the most important people you could ever have in your life still love you even if you aren’t always loveable. I know Holly watches over me and mine and is brown dog’s Guardian Angel. I know that disappearing people doesn’t make you invincible.
So find your sense of authenticity. Don’t be a coward. Because the coward in you may turn on you. It may want out. It may want to go back to that one they betrayed. So don’t be fake. Be real. And thankfully people, I’m that girl again who can blog because of a dog! And dammit it friends, let’s drink to that!