I truly never understood the saying "there just aren't enough hours in the day" until this year. I was never an over industrious person as a teenager and into my college years, but as days go by and I ripen up a bit, I can feel my A-type engine revving.
I see in myself more and more the need to go and go and go. To make, help, carry, clean, decorate, cook, whatever there is to be done. Whether this is the product of Mormonism, the waning of adolescent depression, being a Manning or just a sign of -gulp/guffaw- "maturity", I could not tell you. I've always loved being in the thick of it, but lately I've been filled with enough initiative to make me think that maybe, just maybe, one day I'll be half the lady my grandmother is. Seriously, there is never a room she can not make cleaner or a yard that doesn't stand a good overhaul when Bonnie is around, and I mean that in the most sincere compliment.
The way I am writing this makes me sound like superwoman, flying around and sweeping the floor clean with a golden broom, which could not be further from the truth. Its just remarkable when you can see the evolution of yourself. It's like looking forward and seeing the curvature of the Earth. It is rare to realize the change within yourself while it is happening. Hindsight usually reveals all of this in sparkling clean lines, but current change moves too fast to make out. I really do feel different though. Different from a year ago, yes, but different than 3 years ago-drastically.
On my lunch break, I let Gilligan out for his afternoon T time, and then went to change my shoes so I could play with him in the back yard. I thought I should stay out there with him, but 5 minutes couldn't hurt, right?
I came out and he was no where to be found. The gate was wide open and my neighbors car was gone, so I knew just what had happened. I went out into the neighborhood and started calling the dog but he was gone. I didn't panic though. I felt very calm for a woman who is so frantically obsessed with a small helpless creature such as Gill. I said a prayer and I knew I would find him. I walked up and down the street calling him, finally getting a little choked up after 10 minutes of nothing. I tried calling Jared for ideas but then then the mailman stopped me and said "Oh a little dog? Yes, I saw him waiting at your front door so I let him into your building." I walked home and there was Gillian, shivering and wagging his tail in the foyer in front of our door.
I give this long winded account of a dog gone missing because it has stuck in my brain for the rest of the afternoon. I am blown away by the ability we all have to listen to our gut instincts. I recognize that gut reaction as a prompting, the Holy Ghost, Holy Spirit, our conscience whatever you want to call it, told me not to leave that dog out there alone and I did anyway. It was a small and almost insignificant feeling but hey--isn't that almost always the case? That same feeling assured me everything would be alright when I saw him missing.
I hope that busyness doesn't get in my way of listening to those little things. I hope that as I feel these rapid changes within myself, they are for the better.
I also hope I can stop thinking of really vindictive, clever and evil ways to get back at my neighbors for always, without fail, leaving the gate open. But some things never change.
