Calm After the Storm

There was a tornado warning as I was leaving work today. We were told to seek shelter in the restrooms but of course, none of us did. My friend Sean and I stayed in my office and continued our conversation about Batman while many others milled around in the hallway watching the rain and clouds outside. While we were never in any real danger, a Facebook friend did snap a rather dramatic shot of a funnel cloud over Havana and Colfax, not too far from my office. The most difficult part of the entire experience, though, was the traffic on my drive home, which left me flustered and annoyed and eager to take Duncan for a walk.

For some reason we have been playing a game for the last month or so. Duncan has long since learned the sound of our cars beeping when we lock the cars with our remotes and is typically waiting at the door with Pip and Olive, who immediately begin yowling for dinner while Roo dances and chirps around me, his tail wagging while he grabs my wrist with his soft mouth and pulls me inside. But lately I've been waiting to activate the alarm until after I've slipped the key into the door and turned the knob. Occasionally he's there, full of smiles and wags, but sometimes, if I'm very quiet I can make it down the hallway before he's alerted to my presence. If he's waiting he gets a treat, but if if I'm able to make it into the kitchen without him crawling out from under Ken's bed he gets plenty of loves but has to wait for a goodie. 

Today, though, after a long drive through the rain and thunder among some of the worst drivers I've ever encountered, I wanted only to see him and kneel down on the floor and let him love me while I loved him back. The moment I opened the door he was there, ready for me, singing my name in that Golden way of his, dancing around me, and eager to play. I dropped my bag in the door and laid down. He chirped louder and plopped down next to me to lick my face while I wrapped my arms around him and laughed into his chest, the difficulties of the weather at work and the drivers on the way home melting away.

Some people drink wine or open a can of beer. I have a dog, and that's all the calm I need.

Fire

These are my favorite nights, when Duncan and I are home, good music (by my friend Sean Renner) is playing while dinner (homemade chicken curry) is simmering on the stove, a couple of candles are burning, the air coming through the open windows is cool and sweet, and the world three flights below is unmoving and quiet. While I cooked and cleaned up after myself Duncan curled up on the couch and watched the flicker of the flames from the candles on the coffee table, his eyes rolling closed, his eyebrows dancing with dreams. Soon I'll snuggle up next to him, he'll rest his head on my hip where Winnie used to lay, and together we'll enjoy the creeping darkness, the smell of dinner, and the simple pleasure of each others' company.

These are the nights I wish I could hold onto forever, that I'll dream about in my old age, that I could spend eternity reliving. My dog and me, together, content, lazy by the smallest of fires.