Xmas morning.
‘I didn’t get a chance to wrap it’ said our middle guy.
He handed me a bag.
When I pulled out the fox he drew for me the dam broke.
I couldn’t stop crying.
I’m crying now as I write these words.
Perhaps it was 2024.
Or just the thought of him thinking of me.
But damn, it hit me hard.
Each year seems to be doing that as of late.
I wouldn’t say I’m fragile.
But I am especially full.
Hyper aware of the shelf life in all of this — in all of us.
Not to be outdone, Ollie went running for what he drew for me.
Another fox :)
Later, I’d open a fox print from Sara.
Then, a pair of fox socks from my Mom & Dad.
And last night, our nephew Nick handed me a fox he had drawn.
Me, left feeling saturated in good fortune and love.
Touched by kindness.
Seen and appreciated, ever so briefly on the periphery, like a fox.
Running Fox...
3
The day before I had seen him
...and this morning as I walked Finn,
I thought I had dreamed about him.
Running.
Stopping.
Looking my way.
At that moment, I looked up from my phone, looked to my right and swore I caught a glimpse.
A step further and my eyes widened.
There he was.
The fox.
He noticed me immediately and stopped in his tracks.
Sat down.
Then he laid down.
And I just stood there.
Eyes locked,
...sharing more than just acknowledgement.
His eyes trusting mine.
Comfortable.
Inquisitive.
Not running.
As if to say...
Let's stay here awhile.
4
When I walked Finn this morning I thought of him.
As we made our way along familiar routes…
…my eyes scanning the peripheries
Searching.
Hoping.
…on quiet, dark roads.
Except for the jingling of Finn’s dog tags…
…announcing us to the world.
We circled back.
Empty-handed.
Eyes left longing for the fox.
I dropped Finn back at the house to head out for the day.
Started the car.
Pulled out of the driveway...
…and headed back in the direction of our walk.
As I turned the corner there he was.
Crossing my path…
…almost as if he didn’t want to disappoint me.
Along his merry way.
Me.
Now…
…along mine.