Yesterday during my women’s group, one of the participants spoke of the importance of signs in her life. We talked about how easy it is to miss them as such if we are not paying attention. It takes a certain receptivity, an openness and then we see them everywhere.
So last night, after posting, how they show up about my mom’s friend, Cheerleader, I drowsily walked my daughter to bed. Laying next to her warm body in between the well worn sheets, I looked at the desk calendar on the nightstand. The calendar features a different dog every day doing something cute.
When I saw yesterday’s dog, a big knowing smile instantaneously found my cheeks. It was a West Highland White Terrier, of course, a little Westie just like the dog Cheerleader had when I was growing up.
When we would visit New Jersey in the summers, we always stayed at their house. It was familiar and cozy and I was a big fan of the constant supply of soda and chips, the goldfish in the kitchen that lived to be at least 17, and the green toilet that sat underneath a vent and gave me frostbite. I loved that house and I loved their Westie, Holly, who used to run around carrying an orange and purple rubber alligator in her mouth that she believed to be her baby. The poor lamb suffered from “false pregnancies.”
Then, today, after I dropped my kids off at school, I’m waiting for the light at the intersection to turn green, when a woman appears walking two dogs right by my car. A Scottie and a Westie. Another one. And there’s Cheerleader again. Still making me smile.