This morning, I took my dog for a walk. A cacophony of breeds lies within her family tree, though she’s often mistaken for a Jack Russell Terrier; she’s also often assumed to be a boy, which I think is fascinating. I do not know what genders a dog.
The air was crisp and cool, bordering on cold, and it felt more like autumn than the rising tide of spring. Wet streets and sidewalks hinted at overnight rain, rain that I’d listened to from my soft and cozy bed before I’d risen with my child in the still-dark, early part of day.
I started the walk with a podcast in my ears. As we made our way across town, I turned it off to instead listen to the sounds narrating the day: a single bird, nameless; a set of windchimes, the heavy ones that remind me of the good part of a church’s large organ. A car, very occasionally, passing by.
We’ve been traveling in the last couple of weeks, to the east coast to see friends and family. My child is somewhat seasoned at these long flights; I want him to learn to navigate the differences and the joys that come along with travel. I want him to see himself expand in those new spaces. On this trip, though, we struggled some: we were both exhausted, and he developed a double ear infection which landed us in an urgent care center, where a doctor completely covered in protective gear gave him a once-over. Antibiotics and a fever followed, and we slept together, his small mouth breathing out mere inches from my own. I took in his nighttime coughs, pulling him closer, and in the mornings, we rose to sit in a steamy bathroom with juice and books.
We were supposed to end our trip with a couple of days in North Carolina, visiting friends who are family, but I decided to bring us straight home instead. By the time we boarded our flight, I wondered if I’d made a mistake; he was feeling much better. There is no way to know; we were so glad to get home, and we would have been so glad to see those people who we adore.
Our dog was happy to see us, though. We were happy to see her, too. And on our walk this morning, she held her small head high, trotted in front of me, smelled countless smells that went unknown to my inferior senses. The wind blew the neighbors’ chimes. The birds became a chorus. The cars rolled by, and continued on, as we did as well.
The Wandering Introvert 