Must Love Dogs

Cold, and dark, and I'm hurrying to get back to you. We both know that neither of us is really happy, I think, but we've put too much time and energy into making this work to let it go. Committed, what a dark word. I'm freezing and thinking about other people, as usual on these long and nowadays solitary walks.

There was a dream once, a poor shabby Utopian dream. We both must have known that it would never, could never work. Living happily on next to nothing, having jobs we liked and kids and dogs. We ended up with careers, and brats, and a mutt. Some dream. I wonder what they're doing some days; if he's living this gray life, or if he's got the husky puppy that he wanted and is following his parents into government work. Then I shut it out again, back to reality and tediously long days and longer nights. Whatever we once had that made those evenings magical has disappeared into your TV and my novels, we each live our own separate fantasy worlds.

In the alley next to the "cozy" apartment is a girl on her cell phone. Silly young thing, shouting and ranting to whoever is on the line, tears and rosy anger boiling in her cheeks. I want to tell her to give up now, accept the mediocrity; but she has years ahead of her to learn that. Tomorrow she will go to the coffee shop that she works at and and there will be a message and a brownie and she will forgive and sigh at her own dream. My key scraping in the door drags me back to my own story, and the snotty nose that is waiting for tired hands to wipe it.

Just Livin' the dream.