Today was like any other.
I woke up…queasy. Why is the night such a goddamned beast? I swear to god, I don’t remember the last time I went to bed when it was dark and awakened to sunlight. It’s been 15 years, I believe, since nausea has allowed five straight hours of sleep.
Finally ambulatory, about 9:40 a.m. (not bad), I trudged to the kitchen, gave Teddy his meds, fed the dogs and ushered them into the backyard.
I wrote a little, selected a lesson plan for the next class. I surfed Netflix for a bit, found a documentary, and by movie’s end it was time to medicate and feed the dogs dinner.
B
u
t.
As I set the food down, hit the Mellow Mix on the stereo and settled to inthe backyard lawn chair — always facing west — I began to recall the day. The way days should be recalled:
I woke up…again!
I gave the medicine Teddy needs to live a life free of disease, epilepsy. I gave them a dinner they routinely scarf so quickly I feel like a sous chef (they love a good Snausage chaser). They depend on me. For food, a roof, a scratch. And all they ask in rental fee is that I let them love me, unconditionally, uninhibitedly and publicly. How many souls can lay such claim?
I wrote today. I taught today. Those things matter. I am a zealot for both. Somehow, I have been permitted to chase those loves, court those passions, my entire adult life. How many souls can lay such claim?
I watched an amazing film called The Camden 28, about a raft of Vietnam War protesters, including a Catholic priest, arrested for breaking into and trashing a local draft office. They destroyed hundreds of files so the military wouldn’t know which kids were left to send to Southeast Asia. When the feds realized the PR nightmare of jailing a priest for opposing Vietnam, they reduced all felony charges to a single misdemeanor. Not one protester took the deal. They believed that a jury would acquit them, simply because the war was wrong. And the jury did. To the last, accused and peer chose to do the right thing, even if it weren’t the legal thing. How many souls can lay such claim?
As I watched the day prepare to punch its time card, as Cat Stevens’ Don’t Be Shy began its trickling piano, as the dogs, bellies full, stretched out on a patio toasted by a sun as warm and regular as a heartbeat, I realized:
Jesus.
Today was like no other.
