*WARNING* There is NO music in this post whatsoever. This is not a funny post. It is not a snarky post. In fact, it is somewhat warm and fuzzy and navel-gazy and bittersweet, so if you're not in the mood, I will understand if you were to skip right over this posting. Thank you for understanding. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- My ex-husband called this afternoon to check in with me about some plans we had made to get together this weekend. We had some sad business to attend to: the three of us--Ken, his wife Jennifer, and I--plan to drive out to Fort Funston to scatter the ashes of our beloved dog, who died Christmas morning of last year. Her death had devastated us all, and we weren't in any hurry to let go of this last real piece of her physical being, which is why we had waited. In fact, we've got an understanding; if any of us, at any time, suddenly feels they can't go through with it, then we stop and do it when we're all ready. After all, this isn't like flushing a goldfish down the toilet: we had gotten this dog as a puppy and had shared her, as our fur child, for nearly fifteen years. (Anyone who has ever loved a pet knows.) When we separated ten years ago, knowing him and his history as well as I did, I figured that, once the dog was gone, he'd disappear from my life, and that would be that: two people who had once loved and pledged ourselves to each other, breaking the tie and walking away in different directions forever. He was not the type to maintain ties with people who were not in his direct line of vision: almost none of his old college friends or band mates were contacted more than once or twice a year, Christmas and birthdays, and none of his exes. When he closed a chapter of his life, there was a very clear line of demarcation; nothing, or very little, spilled over into the next chapters. So, when he said, as we hugged goodbye after walking out of the vet's office, "I want to keep in touch--I don't want this to be the end," I was encouraged. He'd never said anything like this before, in my recollection. And, even better, he was as good as his word, popping in every now and again with a text, an email, a cell phone call. We had gotten together for dinner two or three times for dinner this year already--this Saturday would be number four. We chatted for a good forty-five minutes about this and that, catching up on each others' lives, as we hadn't spoken since before the summer. It was easy, comfortable, two friends catching up, no awkwardness or bad energy between us. Suddenly, about ten minutes before the end of the call, I suddenly thought: "Oh my gosh, I really love this guy." Not in any romantic way--don't get me wrong; I don't want him back as a partner, I adore his new wife, and I especially love how happy and absolutely right they are together--but realizing, for the first time, that we had come full circle as friends...that this was someone I truly cared about, enjoyed talking to, and that I was happy to have he and Jennifer in my life. I am feeling incredibly humble. And grateful. That's all. RM