Sunday morning I awake to the sound of a car engine. My newly licensed daughter has been driving her brother's Mustang while he's away at college for lack of a better vehicle. We hope to change this soon. Let's just say the entire house rumbles when she starts the ignition. Not practical.
I roll over and groan, still exhausted from the Friends + Family Fiasco at work. Cell phone buzzes. I open one eye and read message.
Daughter: "Going to Starbucks. What do you want?"
Oh, Starbucks! It's going to be a good day. I decide to open the other eye.
Dog comes over, he's excited I'm awake. He gives me an expectant look, the one that says: "It's time for my belly rub and praise, get with it."
I text daughter: "Anything with coffee. Surprise me. Love you. Drive safe."
She returns and the dog wants to run outdoors to greet her the minute he hears the
rocketship Mustang coming down the street. He gets lost in the lawn which is completely overgrown. I am not sure what needs to be trimmed more, the lawn or the dog, who is looking beyond shaggy.
Daughter bounces in and we revel in our caffeinated glory. We sip our Pumpkin Spiced Lattes while we search for our dog, who is now ear-high in what used to be the front lawn.
Me to daughter: "I wonder where our lawn guy is? I'll have to call him. I don't know what is hairier the lawn or the dog?"
Daughter: "If you want I can take the dog for a haircut while you are at work."
She lays a beach towel down in the backseat of her car in the event the dog should get himself so worked up he vomits, (yes, this is my life, people). Engine roars. Dog looks at me wide-eyed. He's terrified. He thinks he's going to the moon. Daughter is smiling. She's busy picking out a tune. She's not concerned with the dog's neurotic ways. She pulls away with the sound of music escaping from her car window and a shaking mutt in the backseat. One hairy dilemma solved. Just like that.
I just want to extend a hug to anyone who lost someone they loved in remembrance of 9/11. We will never forget.