Busy People

I can't watch television without being on the computer.  I can't eat without being online.  I can't write without music in the background.  I can't drive without the radio.  I can't sleep without noise.  I can't focus without distraction.  I can't think without preconceived notions to challenge my critical thinking skills. 

And I can't love without hope.

And I can't believe without love.

I used to wonder how people fall out of love.  Everything from they became too busy and simply grew apart to they weren't busy enough and some idiomatic indictment about idle hands being the devil's workshop would follow.  I'd hear these claims of one smothering the other; one of the two being too needy.  Then, I would hear some metaphorical mantra of that which is not nurtured cannot grow. 


I can say with such clarity that every woman I have ever loved, I still love them today.  From when 15 year old me loved that big bangs and denim skirt wearing 15 year old girl to the woman I love today.  All of them are still loved by me.  And I can't imagine a day when I'll stop.


I used to come home from work only to be greeted by the best dog a man could own.  That excitement, maybe, it was passion... whatever, it was; nothing was better than being wanted to be seen by him.  On occasions, during the day as I worked, he would chew up furniture, get into the trash and make a mess out of my house.  I just figured it was a typical case of canine separation anxiety or simply, boredom.

One day, it all stopped.  I came home from work and he was nowhere to be seen.  No greeting.  No mess.  I searched for him and eventually, found him in my bathtub; all stretched out asleep.

His comfort suddenly outweighed his enthusiasm for me.  It became a reversal of roles immediately.  It was me jumping on him and trying to lick his face.  It was me showing my excitement to be home to greet him.

I began to miss his neediness.  He certainly didn't love me less but he found something that was keeping him busy. And that was... sleeping in a bathtub.


As Buddy got older, less agile and his cancer was draining all his strength; his enthusiasm for me never waned.  I would come home from work and there he was; laying right by the door for me.  His bathtub phase was a thing of the past.  Sure, he couldn't jump like his younger self but those loud thuds of his tail were all I needed to hear to know how he still felt about me.

I would unlock my front door and carefully open it.  If he was laying too close to the door, I would squeeze through the tiny crack so not to hurt him.  I would put my keys into my pocket, bend down and spend a few minutes with him.  He would look up at me with these kind eyes; listening intently as his tail kept hitting the floor.    And then before I could move on through the rest of the house, he would lick my hand.

This was our routine the last couple months of his life.

It's an amazing feeling to know unconditional love be it from a significant other, a family member or simply, a pet. 

I don't think we are really ever prepared for all this constant change throughout life.  One minute, we are madly in love with someone.  The next minute, that once fiery flame is a flickering low lit candle.  And some people give up despite a flame still existing.

I suppose where a light still flickers, hope still exists. 

I prefer the simpler days before technology took us over.  Those days we had to earn affection.  Maybe, at the time, I didn't appreciate the effort involved in finding a pay phone to call that person whose voice I wanted to hear.  I certainly, as a young kid, hated having to fight with my mom for use of our one and only rotary phone.  This was long before call waiting and cordless phones, pacing back and forth waiting for her to finish her call and leave our living room so I could have a few minutes to hear that someone's voice.

I prefer the days where text messaging seemed impossible.  I don't like that my attention span is shot and that multi-tasking has become an euphemism for time management. 

I hate the excuse of being busy.  And it is an excuse.  If we are too busy to spend time with our loved ones or making an effort for real communication, it's merely a choice of priorities.


My fondest memories of my dog, Buddy, were his final days.  To watch a dying best friend find the strength and deep seeded love for me to make an effort to greet me each evening is something I will never forget. 

I suppose dogs recognize time better than we do.  Maybe, they know they have a decade or so to live and then its all over.  They certainly do not know the word regret.

And they are definitely not familiar with the term busy.