This is what I looked like yesterday – not attractive in the
least. My pants are too short, my “badge
of honor” sweatshirt isn’t fitted at all.
But it was enough to have me harassed at a level I’ve never experienced.
And I’m at the point where enough is enough. Let me paint the picture for you: it was about 11:32 a.m., there was a break in
the rain, so I took the dogs out – left the house and started walking on the
sidewalk (in front of an elementary school) of a four-lane road. I’m walking at a quick pace because my
14-pounder likes to walk the edge of the sidewalk – and this makes me very
anxious as cars go about 40 miles per hour down the road. A car pulls into the median and the driver, a
young man starts yelling at me.
Immediately I felt uncomfortable. I can’t remember his exact words – but he was
saying sexually explicit things at me. I
pointed to my ear and shrugged, “I can’t hear.” My lie didn’t stop him. He persisted.
I repeated myself. He pulled off and I was reliev…
Jake Ryan Gregg lays 10 feet from me; half on the dining
room rug, half off. The bare wood floor is dark and pressed against his belly
it cools his body. I scan him for signs of life. Slowly, his ribs expand and
contract as I count his breaths to mine. One full for me, two – nearly three –
for him. We are nine days from welcoming his twelfth year, three months from
our 12-year anniversary. Expand and contract. My eyes can’t look away, even as
they fill with tears. I walk to him and press my face against his failing body.
Expand. And contract. I won’t bore you with the story of our lives. I’m a dog mom,
and not a novel one at that. Just like most dog moms, I love mine beyond words.
I’ve taken him on countless walks. I’ve held him when he hurt. I’ve snuggled
him when he was tired. I’ve joyfully met him at the door every time I opened
it. And then one day it all changed. I am a mom. I knew. “Diabetes,” the vet relayed on a mid-March morning. “Manageable,”
she continued. By mid-April, manag…
James Simpson was released from jail today. I really don’t care. I kind of
forgot he was in there. If I cared, I would have been shocked that it’s been 9
years since he went behind bars. But I don’t care about OJ. What I think
about how much the world has changed in that space of time. In 2008, Obama was starting his first term, Facebook was taking the place of MySpace, and the Spill hadn't happened. I reflect on how much my world has changed: a few jobs, that White House Fellows thing, numerous dog health scares and two road trips across the country. I think about these things because I don’t care about OJ and his 9 years. I care about me.
This shouldn’t be shocking new to anyone who knows me. Since
he’s been locked up, I’ve moved from Huntsville to the beach to Huntsville to
Seattle for a disastrous relationship. Moved four times in my three years in
Seattle and then moved back to Alabama almost two months ago. The
move back happened unexpectedly and quicker than I thou…