Dog Luck

You only get to tell your story if you haven’t given up on love. I tell this to students sometimes. You only get to tell your story if you don’t seek comfort from others. I say this too. Let happiness slowly crawl into you as your speak or write. Know its delicate. Know silence is on your side. Tears are on your side. The nothing that is not there and the nothing that is…

 

I got down on the floor with Corky and cried. The season was incomprehensible and strong. I cried because I would never give up on love. Cried because I was tender inside. Cried because my dog could bear my weight just then, just there. “Our fate is in the stars, dear dog,” I said.

 

A dog is a comfort. We got up together and walked outside in the spring twilight. We were both far away from home. We both loved one another sincerely. We walked around a pond. I told my dog life becomes slow and strong, but only when we’re lucky.

 

Only when we’re lucky my dog. We only get to tell our story if we haven’t given up on luck.