Friday, November 20, 2015
For six years, I have driven to school with a puppy curled in the wheel well of my passenger side of the car every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
For just about every day, I have had a puppy there and on the way to work I glance down and there is my companion and I have my conversation and we talk about the day and what we are going to do. Sometimes I tell him what we aren't going to do. 8-)
Sometimes, I tell him to stop trying to drink my coffee.
That happened a lot.
Now, out of the corner of my eye I think I see something and I quickly look.
But there is no puppy. I'm alone.
Sometimes, when NPR is especially interesting I'll comment, but none quirks their head.
And my office is replete with puppy paraphernalia and I sit alone with the puppy toys. Periodically, I use my toe to move a nylabone out of the way of my rolling chair, but there is no puppy to gnaw on the bone.
Yesterday, as I was feeling particularly down, I heard a commotion at my office door. I looked up and there stood Mrs. Hillmer, the lower division art teacher, with two lower division boys. She motioned to one small, blonde boy to walk over to me.
"Hi," I said and smiled at everyone. The boy held out a card to me. I looked up at Mrs. Hillmer. She just smiled back at me. I took the card. I read it. I started to tear up.
There's a reason I am thankful for working where I do. Situations like this happen all the time and your empty bucket gets filled up by children who never know you needed it. Matthew made the next few weeks bearable. I'm thankful for Matthew and Mrs. Hillmer and all the people I work with who continually fill up my bucket and never even know they are doing it.
And in January, I will have a little puppy in the house. And all will be right with the world.