thursday is over

I was listening to a song, intently I thought, until I noticed I was silently mumbling the words of another so I turned music off, hoping for silence that never shown its face before me. I sucked the nicotine out of my cigarettes a little deeper today, toying with my lungs, releasing as I finished a complete thought.

I thought about Mrs. Karley, my sister's Scottish terrier that had to be euthanized this morning as she was suffering from dementia caused by
liver failure.

I thought of the series of words, ones that I laughed at, but now feel were inappropriate as I was told and shown by movement and gesture what I might look like walking in circles, similar to Mrs. Karley, from my own liver failure. And when I laughed back and told the teller my hope was not to be taken to the same veterinarian, the laughter stopped and he quickly changed the subject.

I thought not knowing what my mother thought when she delivered the dog to the vet, what the dog thought as she last lay eyes on my mother, and whether my mother, like I, was having visions of my death, my own failure. And then I thought of my sister and how she would be told and wondered what her thoughts were, whether she would be affected by the loss of losing a companion that at best guess has been part of her daily thinking for ten years.

I thought of the other dogs my immediate family has lost since I have been in Dallas and wondered why change has become so insensitive to our human emotions, why illness has hovered above like a dark cloud and why we have each suffered personal loss, individually, but also collectively and I began to realize that each loss has been a fore shadowing to the eventual loss of me. I, being the only immediate family member not experiencing direct loss, meaning I could not claim ownership, whereas I do claim ownership of me and have been reminded loss is coming with vengeance.

I thought of my postponed trip to Florida later today and felt content in my decision to steer clear of other dark clouds in the form of a tropical storm named Ernesto and I reveled in the beauty of others wanting me to spend time with them this holiday weekend now that my plans have been changed, temporarily.

I thought of my options for future travel outside of Dallas and have decided that until I near another venture to California, I will plan to visit Santa Fe and the challenge of high elevation and then visit Florida, the place that will forever remind me of becoming so ill, with such intensity and such quickness I did not even have time to clearly think about what I was experiencing until after I had relocated to Dallas. And I know my reasons and my rationale for returning to my symbolic beginning of my symbolic end, Florida, are greater than my thoughts, certainly less powerful than my soul.

I thought of how sporadic my communications have been with long time friends, my e-mail messages cut in half at least by simple vision, not count and my cell phone rings are less from those that have been familiar with me only more so with a different set of numbers to dial. And I thought of the new relationships that continue to form, the door of communication more open, more blunt, but the laughter is the same although my voice feels different.

All the while, I looked at Ashley Marie and threw her a ball, watched her jump, whine and demand, so innocently, my attention to her playtime, my attention period, noticing that she too must be thinking today as she did not eat as she normally does and refused food from my hand as if to tell me she thought of the emotion filled day that is now a memory, short term, but concluded as the thoughts continue. August has ended until another year and Thursday is over.