It's There

There's this certain way he greets the neighborhood dog.  It's like he tells Lefty in every word just how happy he is to see him and that he appreciates getting to spend minutes of this precious life together.  

It gets me every time.  If it's not written down somewhere, it should be.  Judge a man by the way he treats a dog.

Between Christmas and New Year's we were out clearing snow together, me on the shovel and him on the snow-blower.  The cold air cut through my lungs and I kept looking around - at the mountains, the little trees we so carefully care for all summer long, the lit up wreaths on the garage lights, the front porch, and the man greeting Lefty in that certain way as he came bounding through the white fluff.  And then I had one of those moments, you know the kind I'm sure.  The kind where you actually feel like the world is aligned and you are right where you are supposed to be.  

Inside my fleece lined leather mitten, I felt on my left hand the ring.  The ring that was given to me the day after Christmas.  The ring that was given to me in the most special way and that tells me we get to be right where we belong for the rest our lives.  Because right where we belong is right with each other.