To keep going. To keep going. That is what I tell myself. It’s so hard to be here, in the here, in the NOW.
This is the best, though. I want to keep going. The telling myself is usually when I am walking my dogs in the aged neighborhood where I live.
Yesterday, we kept going and made it to the river. I did my best to pull my mind to here, to the beautiful, perfect weather, to the winding roads and the enormous trees and the hills.
I pulled my mind into the here so that it wouldn’t be where work busies my brain until the clutter is just one loud and irritating noise inside my head.
We walked down to the flats. The keep going brought us a rainbow.
The keep going saw a woman exit her car. “Hi, Gus! Hi, Georgie! I know you!,” from a woman whom I had never seen.
How beautiful the keep going got when she knew me from the stories my dogs had told, or the stories I had told because of my dogs.
In any case, she knew all of us and she KNEW us. She had photographed Gus when he was still Kelvin, sitting in the shelter waiting for me when neither of us knew.
Both I and she (this lady that was, I think, the reason for my keep going), had had the same mission when Gus was Kelvin: to get him adopted. I through the photos with the old folks posted to the web and visits and ads until I realized that I could stop and bring him home.
The keep going is something I am amazed that Georgie, my beagle, did.
She kept going for me through 6 years of caged existence and a semester of lab experiments and then left at the shelter for me to find.
Gus with the acid scar that runs like lightning down his back, and Georgie with the serial code tattoo inside of her ear. They will keep me going to the rainbow at the river.