Her cold, wet, nose sniffing my face. Her head and body trying to burrow into my back and stomach to roll me out of bed.
She does this every morning.
She is a constant in the unconstant of life.
She is unconditional love in the face of the horror of what happened in Paris this weekend. In the pain someone I love causes me. In the ups and downs of jobs, finances, love life, raising kids, she wakes me in the same way. She loves me in the same way.
So forgive me if I just want to curl up in a ball some days and retreat from the world, with Bailey at my feet. Retreat from people who kill indiscriminately. Retreat from those who say they love but hurt me. From the climbers at work. From a world in which my teen, on any given day, has access to substances that could kill him and only my admonitions and his own common sense keep him safe and healthy.
On days like today, I feel the need to circle the wagons really close. Nature is allowed in. So are books, but only those filled with wisdom; no depressing tales allowed. My children, of course. As many bubble baths as it takes.
And Bailey. Because if the world makes any sense, she will be there tomorrow morning again, wet nose at my face, tail wagging, rolling me out of bed.
She defies Paris, those who hurt me and uncertain circumstances.
Sometimes, when the world looms large, I need to make my corner of it very small.
I don’t think retreat is the ultimate solution. But many of us need to get quiet before we fully process what has been laid in front of us.
I’m lucky to have a solid, furry someone with me in the quiet. Who helps me find joy in the midst of sorrow.