These have been difficult days; in fact, this has been a difficult decade. In these ten years, hard-to-bear things have happened. I was sitting here, half-reclining, eyes closed, when something bonked into my face and bounced onto my chest. Der Bingle had tossed this little cow at me as he was on his way out to take Alison to Wal-Mart.
As I simultaneously opened my eyes and grasped the thing on my chest, raising it to my line of vision, my first thought was, “Poor little cow, you don’t even have a name.” And then I pressed her to my face and just sat like that – me and the nameless cow. Her cow snout stuck out, as did my nose, so we compromised and she rested her snout on my forehead and my nose fit in the spot under her snout chin. Whatever you call that area – I suppose her neck, chest region.
She is a comforting little cow. She has a way about her.
Yesterday at Redbox I stood in line behind a little blond boy about four and his parents. He was squatting down the way little four year old boys do, pointing a the picture of a cartoon movie in the very bottom row. I guess, though, there was nothing available in the Redbox the family wanted and they stepped aside. As I stood there, looking at the titles, a little voice came up and asked about that cartoon movie. I looked down at that little face, and if I could have, I would have gotten it for him.
I saw a face asking about Masters of the Universe and Tranzor Z and a slow-witted robot called Bobobot. I looked at the parents who were still there talking about something and I said what so many people once told me: “These years, cherish them.” And my mind added, “for that face will always be so dear to your heart.”
Now, Little Cow is going to help me get my act together.
Hey, LC, stick with the cuddling . . . this tough love punching is annoying.