Mellencamp, Cat Claws, & a Group Shower

Dear John,

 

It's been a good day. After work I came home and mowed, so I can have an easier Saturday. I still need to trim and weed. But the big job is done.

 

There've been a few things of note today. First, the dog now knows that the cat has claws. I don't know what was going on down the hall while I was eating dinner, but I heard an emphatic dog-yelp, and here came Jethro running down the hall so I could protect the 50-pound dog from the 12-pound cat. He kept his distance for about an hour, and has been cautious around Hunter ever since. It will be interesting to see how this plays out.

 

I came back inside after mowing, got some Gatorade, and watched an hour of Big Bang Theory re-runs. Then I took my shower. Of course, the animals followed me down the hall and to the bathroom. When I opened the shower curtain, the cat jumped in the bath tub and the dog put his head in the tub to lick the water off my legs, just like he used to do with you. There is no such thing as privacy in this house. Everything is communal. I thought for a week or so that the cat had outgrown milk - I'd put it out in a bowl for him to drink while I ate breakfast, but after a while he stopped drinking it. He wasn't tired of the milk; he just wanted to drink it out of my glass. So now I pour my glass of milk, he comes and drinks about a quarter-inch off the top, and I get to drink the rest. Then I had to explain to Jethro that Hunter can drink my milk, but he can't. This sibling thing can get complicated.

 

I thought about you on the way home today - have I told you recently how glad I am that you moved us here? I had the radio on, and John Mellencamp's Small Town came on. I turned it up loud and listened while I was driving. I was on County Road 42 with corn fields on both sides, and all I could see was the road, the sky, and full-grown corn just off the road on both sides. It was quintessential.

 

This is where I live. And it's a far cry from where I grew up. Even then, Atlanta was nothing like this. I love it here, and am so thankful that we came. And I'm glad we stayed, after we had nothing to keep us here except that it had become home. I still have occasional moments of wondering where I am and how I got here. But more often the moments are like the drive home today, when I'm just thankful to be here, driving down a country road between corn fields. Thank you for this.

 

Thank you for everything - for every day since I met you, for where and who I am now, and for the hope of spending eternity with you. I still wonder how you forgot to take me with you when you left. But you can't get away - I'm right behind you. Whenever Jen lets me dig!

 

Love your forever,

Joan.