We watch the mist swirling above the river and I think I can see fish or creatures imitating them riding the current. The hammock swings empty in the yard; no one wants to lounge there and read in this weather. I picture the August me out there with sunglasses and a book and I hope there's an August Zoe too, underneath that hammock swatting flies away. But hope, Thich Nhat Hanh says, is dangerous. It makes me forget that the perfect moment is this moment right now. It makes us chase things we can't see. It makes us put our happiness in hock.
And right now the dog is eating, walking, running, playing, cuddling, smiling in her doggy way, and she knows this is her world so of course as the day wakes up and people get to work she will supervise the construction going on across the river--across her river. Right now the dog is beside me sharing a new day, this Tuesday morning. This is our moment, and although I want a million more of these I will horde the ones I have by writing about them here and now.
Namaste, gentle reader. Namaste.