Tag Archives: summer walk

A small boy crosses the parking lot

They say crows remember kindness. This morning, the woods are full of them. By that I mean three cross our path. No amount of animal intelligence will surprise me, ever, but I wonder: what does kindness to a crow look like? Not throwing stones at them? The path emerges onto the shady campus, some event about to happen. Urns line the edge of a folding table as if preparing for a drill. Ready! Aim! Pour!

A skinny boy crosses the parking lot, half in shadow. What is his errand? Later I will remember his tiny half-lit back, something cinematic and bird-like about him.

A man in a tie flings his briefcase into the front seat. Half a lot away, another man sits at the wheel and chortles into his phone.

Watch. Sit. Turn. Place! Watch… watch… By my side! (tap tap tap tap). By my side!  We see four other dogs and Finn does not bark at a single one of them. Not even the one that barked at him. You have no idea how major this is… how much progress it signals.

Husband home from China just now. You should have seen me frantically flipping through his itinerary after watching those explosions in Tianjin. Orange fireballs. He was somewhere else. But he HAS been there.

So many things to feel glad relief over!