Why

When I was little, I didn’t ask many questions. I just entered life and explored to my hearts content. I chased squirrels and birds and in the spring I could make turtles plop into the pond  – dozens at a time.  It was REALLY fun.  Running up to a big big goose bird and making it fly was really really fun.

But now I ask why?

Why does my skin itch sometimes? Why are there bumps? Why do my eyes hurt? Why is it so hard to get up? Why do my back legs fail? Why do they hurt?

It’s really embarrassing, but sometimes my little brother is so busy exploring and chasing and jumping and playing, that he runs over me.  I mean he literally runs over me… right on top of me.

I don’t understand, and I can’t get out of the way fast enough –  so I have spot – it’s “MY Spot” – between the coffee table and sofa, and it’s mostly a safe space to hide from the little one’s rambunctiousness.

I don’t know the answers.

I know that I like it when mommy acknowledges the pain, I like it when she still gives me treats – even on days when I make a mess.  I like the soft touches and gentle “loves” a pat on the head brings.  I like when she sneaks eggs in our breakfast, and “special treats” in our supper.

I don’t really understand why – but I do understand love.

Is that how humans are too?

For every day that there is sunshine, there will be days of rain, it’s how we dance within them both that shows our love and pain.

unknown

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