I choose you.

I chose the little tadpole scurrying through the dark, internal mystery. Little arm and leg buds flailing, getting stuck here and there; my constant, deep-sea swimming companion.

I choose you.

Brand new babe, stretching, drinking in light. Shiny, slick skin, you still connected to me and then the cutting of our tie, the first in a series of letting go.

I choose you.

Soft kisses, first words, musical fingertips, exploring, fluttering eyelashes against my collarbone during silent hours.

I choose you.

Your shaggy Beatles haircut, your knobby knees and smooth skin. The tiny, delicate beauty mark on your bottom. The way your hand fits so perfectly in mine. Your questions, your sincere search for truth. Your kindness, empathy, sweetness.

I choose you.

A million times over. I choose you.

With her daughter, my sweet niece, Rowan.

Cuteness overload, right?  I wanted to get some shots of the dogs together and then some of Dakota with both of them, but…yeah.  Let’s just say that Max is MUCH better at following directions than little Sage is…yet.  But I managed a few snaps.

And I have to close with my favorite thing in the world:  paws.

Yesterday, I went to the pet store for the sole purpose of buying a pooper scooper.  Having a 100+ pound dog who eats like the Apocalypse is nigh amounts to quite epic eliminations and they need to go away if we are to enjoy our yard.  So, I went in for one of those long-arm-poo-grabber dealie-bobs.  And I found it.  And then this freaking puppy jumped up and put his paws on the edge of his little tank thingie and rested his head on my boobs.

And I sort of died.

And I picked him up and cuddled him and he buried his head in my neck and OMG WHAT THE HELL IS IT THAT MAKES THEM SMELL SO DAMN GOOD.

I took a picture of him with my iPhone and reluctantly left him.

And, today, after much cajoling, I went back to get him.  Now, based on past experiences, I’m not keen on buying animals from pet stores.  Max was a rescue dog.  But, I wasn’t LOOKING to get a dog.  If I was, I would certainly have not gone to a pet store.  But I fell in love with him.  No turning back.  And pet store dogs need loving homes, too.  On the upside, he wasn’t from a puppy mill — a local man bought a dog there and then it had puppies and he brought the puppies back there to be sold, and Sage is one of those puppies.

He’s exactly five months old today, born on March 5th.  He follows Max all over the place, is my new best friend and even Daniel can’t put him down.

He fits right in.

We feel the absence, we try to fill the void, unable to accept that if we are just patient enough, new things will come in its place.