I just came downstairs to find Skye, our blue merle collie, standing with his head nearly in a corner, staring fixedly down at something. I came up behind him, peered over his shoulder and realized that one of the big brown floor pillows we store upright in that corner had fallen flat on the floor. Into Skye’s place. His personal lying down place.
He wasn’t barking at it. He wasn’t whining. He hadn’t come looking for me. He was just standing there, staring at it with that same meaningful focus he uses on me when he stands across the room and silently sends a laser right out of his eyes: I need to go out.
So I reached over and pulled the pillow up out of the way, and he simply inserted himself into the space. Where he is at this moment. Asleep.
Okay. So I run out into the studio where C. is here today, working with his dad on some training videos. I stand in the doorway with a little of that Skye focus until they look up, and then I tell them the story. It’s not much of a story—just a thing. A family thing that we all know about. And to hear Cam’s clear, ringing laugh, understanding it all completely and immediately, and sharing my glee at the absurdity of our mutual experience? I miss that so much. So very, very much.
So this is also a cautionary tale: to my friends whose children still are young—it really is a tough time in so many ways. You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to be frustrated. You’re allowed to look forward to the day when the kittens finally grow up to be nice, quiet independent cats and the puppies stop chewing on the furniture.
But you’re not allowed to miss what you’re making, even as you make it—the kids will be gone, so quickly, and with them will go your context, your quick shared understanding, the laugh that comes after a single significant sound. Keep your friends close while you still got ‘em. Because visits later are never, ever enough.
So just grab somebody. Right now. This very minute. Grab a kid and buzz him on the neck and squeeze him (not too hard) and pay attention while you do it. Close, close attention.
15 Responses to What I miss –