Little Girl, Big Heart
QuickPost | System Overview | Movable Type Publishing Platform Poor little Annika, my youngest, made the mistake of going through her photo album last night while she was in bed. These are photos she's taken with a variety of cheap cameras that have come and gone since she was old enough to hold them reasonably steady. Sure, many of the photos are of things like cabinet handles, my butt, doorknobs and other things viewed from her two foot high perspective. But several are of our dogs in varying degrees of focus. Actually, "dog parts" would be more appropriate because none included an entire dog. We're talking a nose here, a paw there. She did find a nearly whole one of Zoe, though, and the barely healed wounds of her recent euthanasia tore open and bled again. She comes to me with the photo clutched tightly to her chest, tears streaming down her face. If only she could hug her again. if only she had played with her more. She slept cuddled up with me and I suggested she place Zoe's picture under the pillow so she could dream of happy times with her. But she gave me that "are you insane, woman?" look and said she was afraid Zoe would smother. After a while, she went to her own bed with a slightly damp Zoe in tow. This morning, she took that same picture with her to school, tucked into her binder somewhere between math and language arts. Big hearts break easily.
On the lighter side, I was talking to my eldest, Kristina, telling her how fabulous the biscuits and gravy were at Cliff's Restaurant. She shook her head in disgust and said she could never eat there again after seeing me throw up in my breakfast there a few months back. She had picked me up from my colonoscopy and my stomach had not yet recovered from the anesthesia, I guess. Annika looked at me with saucer-size eyes and asked, "Anesthesia! You mean you couldn't remember anything about your life!?"