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| the plowed, unpaved road near my house where I like to walk |
I met a neighbor and his dog this week while I was walking. They live several miles from us, and I haven't seen them since this Covid isolation began. Actually, we only recognize each other from meeting on the road - years ago we introduced ourselves, first names only. We usually stop and chat a bit. Of course, on this occasion, we stayed a road-width apart to keep our "social distance". His dog, Rosy, an ancient black lab, couldn't understand why I didn't approach to scratch her ears. I tried to ask "J" about his wife, but he raised his hand to his ear. "I'm so deaf now, I can't hear you," he said sadly. I put my hands around my mouth to funnel the sound and yelled, "Your wife! HOW IS YOUR WIFE FEELING?" A smile lit J's face, "Thanks for asking! She's great. We're both fine."
J is much more stooped than last winter. I'm glad he's still getting outside to walk Rosy, who seems more padded around the middle than a year ago. She waddles now and moves slowly. However, sweet Rosy still wags her tail so hard, her whole body shakes. She definitely remembers my head pats and ear scratches.
None of us really "knows" people we meet. Our hopes, goals, beliefs, happiness, and sadness are usually private matters. We meet on the road of life, say a few words, then continue on, keeping to our own course. However, there are times when even brief encounters offer much-needed uplifting connections.
Though I'm sure J didn't hear, I said quietly,
"May Love and Peace abide with you."
Rosy looked me right in the eye.
I'm sure she understood.
The J's and Rosy's of the world are my good things today...
and the connections we manage forge.
small stone
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