I was 13 years old when my family adopted my best friend. We rescued him from Ohio, where he was found with an 8lb chain around his neck in less than ideal conditions. He was a handsome, 9-month old, white lab-pit mix with a few brown spots, and a splash of black on his tail. He sported a lil brown spot on his right eyeball, which inspired his original name, Petey, after the dog in The Little Rascals.
After a couple weeks of “fostering” him, we were able to convince my dad to keep him for good. I was ecstatic to finally have a dog once again, after losing a couple of my first pups to tragic accidents. We decided to rename him Rocky, which was randomly inspired by the Rocky Balboa film series (we thought it would resonate well with my dad). Rocky had a heart-shaped nose, which inspired…
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My daughter just called, she returned to her home today and has safely arrived. She has been here with me at my house for the last two months. About 10 weeks ago she sustained a concussion which considering the quarantine, we thought it better for her to be home on the mountain. It was already difficult enough to get food for someone who could deal with masking up and possibly having to wait in lines outside the store because they only allow a certain amount of people in the supermarket. Plus all the anxiety that the quarantine initially caused made it an easy decision to bring her home. She needed to be in a dark room and completely shut down which she had not been able to do on her own in her curtainless house. It’s just that at the time we were all in a bit of denial as to how long this lockdown could actually be and what it ultimately would mean for all of us in the near term and medium term, let alone the long term.
I am anxious about her returning to her home two hours away. She’s anxious but excited. Thankfully she has her dog, Blue to keep her company. In a few weeks, she will be called back to work at the retail store that she had started about a month before the quarantine. There will be retraining and work to be done to change the store for the new norm. It will be good for her to see her co-workers again. Soon after that they will reopen the doors to the public. She’ll be exposed to people, strangers – something that I never considered the way I do right now before this pandemic: the total amount of people we come across in our normal daily lives. At this point in my life, I don’t come see a lot of people on a daily basis anymore. But that was my choice and it had nothing to do with the pandemic, more to do with the fact that I prefer dogs (and now chickens) to most people.
I was born and raised in New York City and lived there the first quarter of my life before easing myself out of the crowded city. When I think about the number of people that I used to see on a daily basis – in my building, on the bus and subway, at work, after work, hanging with my friends in crowded bars and clubs…The crowds I’ve been in at Grateful Dead shows…hugging everybody.
But leaving all that was my choice. But for my kids, they don’t get as much of a choice right now and this experience will change their future choices most likely. I love New York City but I just couldn’t live there anymore. and had left New York City before 9/11 but lived within commuting distance at the time. Although relieved not to be in the city on that tragic day, I remember thinking that ultimately I would need to move further away someday.
Last night, my son sent me an article about how ‘tidal wave’ of people from the city are frantically looking for houses in Connecticut now. Being in quarantine has made a lot people reassess where they really want to be when the shit hits the fan scenarios come up. I am exactly where I want to be and this pandemic has reinforced what I good decision I made four years ago in moving up here.
I am grateful for the time we have spent together these last eight weeks. Eight more weeks of waking up under the same roof together, being able to give my little girl a hug when the feeling struck. Fumbling around working together in the garden, watching our TV shows, making cookies together or playing a game together. Time I never imagined being alloted. Now I don’t know exactly when I will see her. She has a lot to do in getting back to where she lives, settling back in and into some sort of new routine in the place she has chosen to call home. There is one less in the pack at home now, two actually including Blue of course, her faithful mini Aussie companion.
It wasn’t easy the first time she left the nest and after such a long visit under these stressful conditions, it hasn’t gotten any easier. I just take comfort in knowing that she knows she has a place here at our home on the mountain where she and Blue are always welcome for however long — or short they want to stay.
Recently, I’ve become more aware that I have a number of friends that have blogs. I have dabbled in blogging over the years under different names and for the most part life gets in the way and I haven’t kept up with it.
Odd for me too, after all, I’ve been journaling since I was a teenager beginning in 1980. I still have volumes of my diaries filled with the lusty descriptions of sex with my boyfriend and how much I loved, loved, loved having sex (and still do) to the countless angry passages about my relationship with my family. Occasionally a friend or boyfriend had scribbled a note or drawing on my pages after perhaps I had shared with them in a trusting moment. Only to have my diary read by my mother and sister countless times. The shocking clarity of those early diaries made my mother blush. She’d say I should find a job writing for a xxx magazine. I do have a great imagination but I was at the time simply writing about my new sexual experiences and feelings of first love. The simple act of writing is cathartic. It’s a way of processing information for me.
Recently a new friend of mine who also shares my love of writing and I were talking about being afraid of doing new things. Change is a difficult thing and trying new things out can be a scary thing. Fear of the unknown. It stops many of us from trying at all. This is my attempt at trying to overcome a little of that. Because in the end it doesn’t really matter if my writing sucks or my views are stupid. It doesn’t matter if no one reads this blog at all but me. Its the process in the end which will matter the most I think.
I look forward to blogging more …
“You are a king by your own fireside, as much as any monarch in his throne.”
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra quotes (Spanish writer, author of the masterwork ‘El quijote’, 1547-1616)