Don’t miss this

One early early morning last week I woke up, and feeling a strong spring warmth seeping through the open window, heard the birds calling like young friends, “Can Margaret come out and play?” In an unusual—some may say unprecedented— move I decided to forego the rituals of journal and coffee in bed. Instead I threw off the covers, slipped on the easiest clothes and drove out to the beach —with Luke’s snout all the way out the backseat window sniffing a hidden wild menagerie before the sun had actually risen—and we walked the tideline (this autocorrected to *tidelight*.) When the sun did make its appearance a few minutes later it tossed buckets of glittery gold on teal waves, gold on white breakers, gold on gray sand, gold in Luke’s brown eyes when he ran back to show me. (Once, a close friend and I were walking the coastline, and he mentioned that dogs speak to us. What do they say? I asked. Like for example, what is Luke saying to us right now? “These are my eyes,” said my friend. At the time Luke was trotting ahead of us but somehow also turning back to look deeply into both of us. I had to agree back then, yes, that’s exactly what Luke was saying.) This time I saw that Luke was saying, “See? Here is why I keep whining and whining in the morning before you take me here — so we don’t miss THIS.”
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