Life changes on a dime.

We flew to Sun Valley for a vacation and my dog got sick with encephalitis and now has to have pills and more pills and chemo.  She is only four.

There is a huge forest fire near our house.  Smoke has taken over. Big fat cinders fall from the sky.   Areas north are being evacuated.  FEMA has arrived.

Life changes on a dime.

Bombs are falling on nurses and grandmothers and ballet dancers in a far-away country that was totally happy and free but now apparently isn’t.

People are stabbed in Canada.  Shot while dancing in Memphis.

Life changes on a dime.

So… I have to breathe a sigh of relief that I woke up this morning.  Fingers and toes intact.  Children fine. Husband musing that it’s going to rain.

I will just take today.  Right now. Only this moment.

And when I look out the back door at the garden, I will study the hydrangeas.  And what state of change they are in as fall looms.

I will observe my dog Rosie as she does her sniff around the perimeter and then drops on her back wiggling into some stinky detritus.

I will look at the mottled September grass, understand it, and see each individual blade.

I will linger.  Making myself stay until I really see.

Because I know that if I really see, I will have that to carry with me.

Life changes on a dime.