Wednesday, December 29, 2004
I miss my dog.
I miss the way he followed me everywhere, his cold nose in my cupped palm as we walked together. I miss the way he would run up to my room at bedtime, anticipating my every move, and curl up on my pillows while I brushed my teeth and put Bath and Body aromatherapy lotion on my hands. I miss the way he greeted me when I came in, like seeing me was the best part of my day. I would open one of the doors to the foyer, juggling shopping bags and barn boots, cold air like a halo above my head, and he would be there. His black and pink tongue would be hanging out of his mouth, and he would shove past the other dogs to make sure he saw me first.
I miss him so much.
We went tubing today, all of us. Evan was nervous at first. He hates the roller coasters at Disney, and he's a Florida boy with season passes to everything, so he should know. About halfway up the mountain, he told me it was the highest he's ever been. I tried hard to be solemn and encouraging, not giggle at the fact that we still had yards and yards to climb. He asked everyone if it was safe, and how many had been injured, and I feigned ignorance. I mean, if you roll off a tube the wrong way flying down icy slopes, I do believe you could break your neck. I was not about to tell this eight year old wonder that.
He only got "a little barf-y" after the second bump in the hill. His own words.
We made double trips to the lodge for water breaks, and I had to take off the Deer Valley sweatshirt I stole from my dad's closet because my jacket was so darn hot. We ended up at Evan's favorite restaurant, McDonald's, and ordered from the dollar menu. A rousing trip to the barn later, we returned home, tired and sore and I think I might feel a fever coming on.
He's so wonderful, though. I know you're supposed to think that about your neices and nephews, but he just is. He has his dad's eyes, and his mom's skin tone, and everyone thinks I'm his mother. Sometimes I wish I was. He's just that good. He can do math better than I can, and knows things about the human body I never would have imagined. He's patient with his little sister, and gets the most amusement from waking Aunt Sarah up in painful ways. Give the kid a couple bouncy balls and a garage and he's entertained for hours.
I wish everyone could have seen how beautiful his eyes were as we spun in the snowstorm and stuck out our tongues the first night he was here. I wonder often when he and Victoria drag Aunt Sarah to the mistletoe above the dining room door so they can kiss her all over her face. I wonder if my kids will look anything like them, and if I love these two so much, how is it possible that I will love my own even more?
. celebrate . `@ 8:51 PM
