Yesterday as I drove down the highway, I grew melancholy as I passed the exit for RR620. That particular exit, that particular road is where I took Lulu for her internal medicine doctor, the man who saved her life and gave us six more weeks together.
Upon being taken back, I started talking to my Lulu. Telling her how much I missed her. Specifically naming the things she did that I so dearly miss. Lulu sticking her head against my knees while I took my first morning pee. Her waking me up at 4 AM and on the weekends at 7 AM too; there was never any sleeping in with my happy snappy morning hound girl. Knocking her nose on the door to command me to open it. Those big beautiful eyes. Her huge loving heart. My baby girl.
A few exits down, I got off the highway to head back to the dreaded hotel. On the side of the road stopped was a greyhound bus. There in unmissable technicolor was a greyhound. A message from my little girl. Of course, I cried until I reached my destination. My girl remains with me.