My Puppy

His name was going to be Jack or Pete or my favorite, Boots. Who knows how we landed on Max, my sister's idea possibly; it was indeed her dog. At the time he was "The cute puppy from the pet shop." He was brought into our home to help my sister deal with her torturous seventh grade school year. From the start he was more then just a new addition to our family. Max grew as I grew. He was at the bus stop for my first day of first grade. He was there lovably kissing all the kids at my graduation party. He saw it all. From start to finish, good days and bad, never failing to generate a smile on any face that walked into our house. There are very few moments I can remember Max not wagging his tail, very few entrances I can remember his not greeting me excitedly, and very few mornings I can remember him not waiting by the steps anxiously for us to wake up. He was, despite all of his accidents in the laundry room and table begging, the perfect dog. And more then I could have ever wished for.

Here

So here I am again. Caught in the same spot, on the same bed with the same blasting music as all the other times. Why do I let myself do this every single time? Why do I put myself through it when I know every time I'll end up right here?

Time

Wow this is the first summer I hadn't written here at all. School is good. Things are changing. Not just the leaves and the air, but things all around me- they're changing everyday without me realizing it. Not at least until now I guess. Everything seems to be an evolving work of progress in the grand scheme of things. We're working up and up and up to something completely unknown. It makes me wonder when exactly I stopped automatically thinking I'd be home for dinner that night. Or when I stopped having to think to not resting my arm on that one sharp stick out on my wooden desk. It's all just a process.