In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Never Too Late.”
Thank you for the times when I wanted to cry but you made me smile.
Thank you for the moments where you showed me how much the little things mattered.
Thank you for staring at me in the eye and believing in me.
Thank you for motivating me to keep trying each time I felt like giving up.
Thank you for making me feel special.
Thank you for teaching me to not give a rat’s ass about what others think.
Thank you for cultivating self-belief and perseverance in me.
Thank you for appreciating me.
Thank you for teaching me to stand my ground.
Thank you for helping me find joy in life’s simple pleasures.
Thank you for helping me discover my unique self.
Thank you for not putting me down.
But most importantly, thank you for loving me in spite of my flaws and short comings.
You know those mornings where you wish the earth swallowed you whole? It was one of them. I lay in bed two hours after breaking my alarm thinking about how futile life was. I had academic degrees and still could not find me a decent job; then again what is a decent job for me anyway? A mix of gardening, art, writing, baking and bungee jumping probably, but even that might not be enough. And so I lay there while the sun brightly shone, the trees happily swayed and a cool zephyr tickled the flowers and shrubs.
Hours later I decided to drag myself out of bed only to park myself in front of the television which added to my loathing for life. It was about four in the afternoon when the phone decided to startle me with its shrill tone. It almost never rang thanks to the invention of the cell phone and whenever it did it seemed to either put fear or irritation into my mind. Luckily, today was not one of those days.
I answered the ringing with a forced friendly “Hello!” and was greeted back with a “Where have you been? Why don’t you answer your cell phone? Will be there in fifteen, I hope you are ready.” Click! And that was the end of the conversation. It was Júlio César the boxer; and no I am not referring to the sport, I am talking about the breed of dog. We met at obedience school where I used to volunteer. We were both in our early twenties; you know like when you convert dog to human years.
It was fun hanging out with him on breaks; that was probably the only thing he looked forward to at obedience school, Continue reading