Waiting

Darby sits on the porch, waiting.   I often wonder, and at times I'm quite sure, she's waiting for Dinah to appear.  Dinah is nearby but won't be seen, having crossed the rainbow bridge last August. 

My Mama is not feeling her best so I am hanging out with her in this sticky, wet, tropical place of my youth.  I have lived longer in South Florida than any other place I've been.  

Washington is my new home but I haven't really been able to become good friends yet.  In Washington, we live in a rural community on the far Eastern side, almost in Idaho.  They don't say "y'all" in Washington, or Iowa, for that matter.  They don't understand grits or biscuits.  They are overflowing with beautiful mountains and evergreens.  I find my introverted self completely and utterly happy in this quiet part of the world where the speed limit of the main road through town is twenty-five and there is homemade maple-nut ice cream at the corner drug store.

  

My Mama's house, where I spend most of my time these days, has two black labs (Zach and Buddy), my Dad and a brother.  After a year of living this long distance life, traveling back to see my pack about once a month, and in the shadow of the pandemic, we are trying to find the newest normal.  I keep looking for the glass half full, writing down what I'm thankful for and moving forward.  Some days I don't believe what I write.  Some days, when Mom has has a bad day, I pretend all is well in the hopes that it will be. 

That is the latest from the Iowa Girls and Florida Dogs.  More on Zach, Buddy and my glorious, far away Darby in the next installments.