Kick Drum Heart

I went with Katie, Michelle, and Mom to see “Marley and Me” in theatres today.

I cried.

It’s the story of a yellow lab whose eating habits and boisterous personality drive the Grogan family to insanity and to laughter in turns. I loved it. The dog is so sweet and innocent. And loves his family unconditionally, as good dogs do. It was a touching and poignant story and I was fully prepared to brutally knee the jerk that called it “cheesy” in the balls, but that would have meant charging over to him with the tears still wet on my face and mascara smeared down the side of my head. I looked a little torn up. We all did. The movie evoked almost every human emotion available and left me feeling like a used dishrag.

The entire time, I couldn’t stop thinking of our own yellow labrador, Potter, and how loyal and loving she’s been even though our family is one that’s constantly in motion and only home long enough (as a rule) to let the dogs out to use the bathroom. It made me want to race home and hug each of my dogs– all of whom I’ve seen grow from little puppies into mature dogs, even if Grizz still doesn’t know the difference between “speak” and “shut up, you crazy beast”– they both mean the same thing to him.

I also came face-to-face with the fact that life isn’t nearly long enough.  As much as it terrifies me, I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t just sit back and let things happen. I’ve got to take the initiative. If I don’t, who will? As I mentioned to Katie, I’ll end up fifty years old and sitting in my giant house with only echoes for company.  I refuse to let that happen! I don’t know what my long-term plans in life are. I might just want a sexy European lover and a hectic life as a phenomenal vocalist. Or, I could pick an simple life with a country home, five kids, a loving husband, and a giant attack-mutt, educating the local schoolchildren in music theory.

Or, hey, I could end up with the giant dog, founding schools in third-world countries with a sexy European husband and four kids.

Who knows?

But see, now, short-term plans are less complicated. I can figure out what I want from life in the here and now, and get it. Or at least try.

Although, I’m ashamed to admit, the thought of failure has me terrified past my trembling knees and down into my very blood.

I’ve got to work past the fear. I don’t want to be that white-haired lady alone and unsatisfied. Even if I fail at everything I attempt to make happen, that will be my life, and I will have experiences to fill the timeline when I look back on it.

My resolve and willpower will carry me beyond my shaking bones and into a future filled with little goals accomplished and big ones tackled.