Time for Me

There's a belief that if you do something for 21 days in a row, it becomes a habit you'll find difficult to break. This applied to exercise mostly and I don't know if that's true for writing posts, but today is the 21st Saturday that I've written a story and posted it on Burnt Chocolate. So perhaps I've cemented the habit. I do know that writing brings me a great deal of pleasure. And at this stage in my life, that's become an important commodity.

Since I moved to Saint John's, I've thought about getting a puppy. Steve and I talked about it and decided it probably wasn't a good idea. When we had Annie, a mixture of German Shepherd and Rottweiler and Emma, a mixture of Black Lab, Sharpie and Staffordshire Terrier (pit bull), we were living in a house and could open the back door and let them run. In an apartment, no matter the weather, walking them outside is a necessity. Then, when Steve moved to the care neighborhood, I thought why not? A puppy would keep me company, snuggle in my lap, sleep next to me. My children put the kibosh on that idea. "Mom, you have too much to do as it is. A puppy would be too much for you." But what did they know? Anyhow, I listened to them which is all you can do at this stage of life.

Emma 1995-2008

Annie 1992-2005

Then Steve died and I was truly alone. Moving to a smaller apartment had helped, but I still thought about a dog for company. This time, the children said, "Good idea. Now, you can do that if you still want to." I started looking at photos of dogs in shelters, greeting dogs on their way in and out of the buildings, asking about dog walkers for those freezing mornings and late night treks. I thought I would find one with hair instead of fur, already trained with a sweet disposition.

Weeks went by. Then months with no decision. Then one morning I woke up with an awareness that had been evading me. My birthday is in July which makes me a Cancer, a caregiver, a person who needs to take care of others. My wish for a dog was a way of keeping that in place. And I decided that it was time for me to turn a corner and focus on taking care of myself. At first it felt selfish. But as I mulled this new awareness around in my head, I realized it's a sign of growth, which at the age of 82, is still possible.