prophesies and time

I started this week with a heavy heart, long list of things I have to do, things I must do, things promised. I'm a dependable girl, I finish what I start, yet I also take on too much, assume I can exist in my office working like a fiend, getting things done. Still, freelancers must roll with the work, and when you get a lot of it, you gotta fit it in with the other things you're working on and living in.

Everyone thinks I'm very organized and on task. The secret is, I need unstructured, puttering, wasted time, too. Sometimes stare into the distance, watch the rain, sneak out for a run, surf the internet or watch TV.

This week there wasn't to be time for any of that. In addition to the freelance work ($$), there's a documentary pilot to complete editing, writing, a road trip to Nashville, a daughter in Nashville and that doesn't include the minutiae of dishes and laundry.

Despite the stress and the workload, I went in for my weekly shift at Trinity Center having allocated exactly 1.5 hours of the day, and no more, in order to stay on "my schedule". As it happened, I stayed longer, and as it happened, Zebra talked me into a ride to Whole Foods and a stop in between. I was relieved, actually, it felt good to get off schedule and off track.

In the car Zebra, who says she is psychic, and who was definitely animated and full of stories, as usual, started making her predictions. First she told me I'm surrounded by a golden glow and wings and this, she says, is my grandmother's spirit looking out for me. Then she said something that was a little disturbing. She said, one of the dogs in my backyard is in a lot of pain and I need to let him go.

I have no trouble believing Grandma Dovie would be beside me. I feel she's almost always there. Death, to me, is a passage, the body is gone, yet the legacy, the gifts, remain.

The second note about the dog, it's harder to take in. Keni is failing. He's failing. He's old, but he's holding on. He still wags when I come home, still asks for help up on the couch, still looks out for me as he's always done. I'm not ready to let him go and I won't be, ever. He's the dog that helped me raise my daughter. He's the gentle collie who leaned against the bad man who threatened me and scared him enough to make him leave. He's the gentle spirit who reminded me that there is strength in gentle. I'll up his meds, try homeopathic cures and maybe even doggie acupuncture. I still need him around.