Another Lesson

On my drive home tonight I passed a truck on the side of the road that had blinking lights on it and there were men doing something in the ditch. My first thought, as morbid as it is, was that they were scooping Buck up off the side of the road. Let me explain this by saying that one of the tips I read in "How to Find Your Lost Dog" was to call the area's department of transportation daily to see if the dog had been killed on the side of the road. I also search the side of the roads as I am driving. I do not want to believe he is on the side of the road, but if he is I want to know. He could also be there barely breathing waiting for me to scoop him and get him to a veterinarian. This is only one of the many scenarios that has played through my mind the last few days. I have gone through them all: mountain lions, wolves, a nice family taking him in as their own, him joining up with a coyote in eternal neutered bliss, losing his collar and ending up in a shelter that does not scan for microchips. I imagine him shivering, lost, and scared running across highways. I think about where he sleeps, or if he even sleeps. I think about if he is eating and thank myself and Erik and Kendra for all those times we fed him more than the recommended two cups a day. I imagine his cuddly coat keeping him warm as he curls up in some grass or maybe an abandoned barn. I think of how much build-up there is in ears now that I have not cleaned them for days. I imagine rolling him over onto his back and rubbing his tummy as I cradle him between my legs; his whole body goes limp as he completely relaxes and slows down from the excitement of me seeing me. I wonder if he is aching for me as I ache for him.

Now that you know what runs my thoughts as I drive and interrupts my attempts to distract myself all day long, I'll share the most recent lesson I have learned from this experience. I called my mom as soon as it hit me. You may have guessed by now. I called her and began to apologize for all the times I was out past my curfew, or drove across the state when I was only 16 and forgot to call her when I had arrived. I apologized for all the times I made fun of her for worrying. I apologized for all the times I said I would call when I got there, and never did. I told her I got it. I do. I now know what it is like to hate the morbid thoughts that enter my head. I know what it is like to jump at every phone call that comes from a number I do not recognize. I feel my heart quicken when I check my messages and hear I have a new voicemail. I have cursed him and loved him more than ever in the same moment.

I think almost every girl talks about how she will never be like her mother when she grows up one day. Whether I was happy about it or not, I think in some ways I have always known I will grow up to be like my mother. I am ok with that. I am proud to grow up and be like her someday. I am proud that I have learned to love with all my heart, and know that with that sometimes comes worrying with all my heart. I am proud to be my mother's daughter.