Sunday, June 15, 2014

On The Way to Get Donuts

Zoe spends the better part of the weekend away from me doing interesting things.

 Fine, fine with me, I have plenty to do and appreciate the break.

My daughter texts me earlyish Sunday asking me to pick her up.

 I'm already awake because my puppy loves me so much she literally can't bear to see me laying still. I have a theory that the  mere sight of me resting causes her to wiggle uncontrollably with fear and/or anxiety and/or joy, impelling her to bring me every loud squeaky toy she can find.

Whatever, I can sleep in and rest all I want another month, another year.

The puppy follows me into the car and settles on the floor.  She doesn't really get into the whole looking out the windows and seeing the world go by thing, and instead concentrates her attention on locating and eliminating every possible crumb ever dropped in the car.

Zoe texts me to see how much longer. I'm on my way.

She replies she had a horrible dream  that I died, and she was still shaken up.

Ten minutes later Zoe's in the car being greeted by the puppy who is acting as though she hasn't seen Zoe in ten long winters.

I ask her a short question, an easy one about breakfast and she snaps back something crazy. I don't answer, I just let her fix it herself.

She continues, "I'm sorry. I haven't gotten over you dying. I'm mad at you."

Thanks. Awesome.

At the next red light I throw my arm over her in the best safest car-hug possible kiss her on the head.

Life is crazy, roll with it.

She agrees,  and from there we decide it is awesome to just be us, angry or not, driving to get donuts.