Life is not linear

I sit in the car while my son runs into the deli for our ritual of morning coffee for me (bless his heart) and a bagel for him. The car has started to warm up and the radio is playing Tom Waits. The sky is cloudy and dramatic with a nip in the air. I wonder what the lesson is right this moment. What I am supposed to do with this gift of a day. I sit and let it rest on my still-sleepy mind. The branches rustle. The ivy on the old brownstone wall shimmies and flutters in unison. The wind dances in a swirl and then, just as quickly, disappears as if to say keep going, hang in there, look up. I think of how many times I’ve looked to the wind for answers. For signs. That gentle exciting breeze nuzzling and enticing. Ah yes, magic does exist. 

I turn to see a young boy perhaps two years old toddling while walking his family dog with his mom. He is proudly and quietly holding the leash, which is adorably only about four inches off of the ground. The dog is going slowly so the boy can keep up, if not even stay ahead. The boy is so proud to be a big boy doing big boy things. The sweet, patient dog looks up while waiting for the boy to start walking again. The car door opens and the outstretched arm of a teenage boy is handing me a hot cup of coffee. I remember when he was so small proudly walking our dogs the same way. I feel nostalgic and wish our drive to school was just a bit longer. 

A gentle breeze circles back around and I turn to see the still-there dog with it’s floppy ears, ever so gently, being lifted by the chilly breeze. It felt serene and lovely and oddly touching. And I swear that dog standing there on the corner smiled at me as if to say, “There is no one way. We are all just walking. Keep going, hang in there, look up.”