i'm listening to them on the phone; it's loud enough that i can hear both sides of the conversation. it's the fourth conversation in a row and i catch myself smiling at the way the story has changed from the first call to this one - little details and words swapped out, exaggerations made. i know there are at least a handful more in the very near future.
a relative has died.
my great uncle, the last of my grandpa's many siblings, passed away. over the phone, the tones in their voices smooth and soften and round in a way that people tend to do when they deliver and discuss certain kinds of news. they have a comforting musical quality to them akin to that of a classical piece whose melody you know perfectly and yet, you can't quite seem to recall the title.
earlier in the afternoon, another death happened. a dog, Yankee, in a shelter where i met him approximately once. for him, tears instantly fell down my face. my heart broke. the way i'm built, i fall to pieces over a pup instead of my great uncle. maybe it's because the former was abused, abandoned, thrown out with the trash. maybe because he didn't have the beautiful life every living creature deserves. maybe it's because i know the latter lived a full life. maybe because everyone knew it was coming. either way, i have to fight off the urge to think something is wrong with me and just accept it's who i am.
all in all, it's not been the best day. as i pause in the middle of writing this, my darling pup crawls into my lap. as much as i wish he were a lap dog, it's a pretty rare treat. i look down at his small body curled up and my heart bursts with love and i think - okay, tomorrow. tomorrow is going to be so excellent. and we sit, henry in my lap, my mom's voice floating through the line to whichever relative she's talking to now.
tomorrow will be excellent.
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