Doggie Bagels

Such little things will break my day. I’ll be moving along in my day and the immediate pending loss of Bronte is not thumping in my heart. Then as fast as a car runs a traffic light, I’ll be blindsided.

Yesterday, I stopped in an Einstein Bagel’s to get a cup of coffee. I stood while my Carmel Macchiato was steamed.  My eyes caught a large jar with smaller plain looking bagels. The jar was marked “Doggie Bagels.” Slowly my eyes started to well up. I tried to breathe deep and look way. Breathe deep, “it’ll go away,” I told myself. My cheeks were grew warm and I could feel the stream. I wiped. You know the subtle one finger swipe. Then it was both cheeks, and both sets of fingers.

Finally the coffee was done and I could go.

I got in my car and just balled. I cried and cried. I wouldn’t be buying her those impulse treats when shopping. Or vacation treats or souvenirs.  Past trips rushed by, simple treats, like gourmet cookies from a little shop from Culpepper, VA. I remembered when I had to go looking for a certain kind of soccer ball. The list is long, but it isn’t the list of memories. It’s that I can’t add to the list.

As soon as I thought about how I wouldn’t add to the list, I had a moment of guilt because I thought that I was selfishly thinking of me. Thinking of what I couldn’t do.


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