As I was rummaging through my closet to find a suitable outfit to wear to work, I detected the long red skirt that had disappeared from view for many a year. The last time I had worn it in fact was during the winter season about six years ago. Apparently after I had washed it back then, I had hung it up and forgotten all about it. But for some reason, the red skirt stood out from the jammed clothes hangers this time. It would go perfectly with the white blouse hanging nearby.
Wrinkled into oblivion, I set up the old iron board and placed the skirt upon it. After I had begun to iron it, I noticed a single white strand of hair. Now this wasn’t just any strand of hair. This white, coarse hair did not belong to anyone I knew in my present day. It did not belong to any of my dogs (who are all consequently lying around my feet at the moment). This single short fiber had an unusual feel about it. It was stiff and wiry. I knew when I retrieved it from the skirt it could only have belonged to someone I had grown to love for many years. The small hair propelled me back in time…and just for a split second I caught a scent of taco shells and an image of a wrinkled horse-coat dog that my family and I came to know simply as “Max”.
A dog by any other name could never have been my Max. He was stately, highly observant, brave, loyal and most of all, loving to the end. I still remember that little sack of creamy wrinkles scurrying across the floor tugging at my then six-year old son’s shoe laces. He had the cutest pink nose and he made a distinctive Pumba-like snorting sound as he stumbled over his own paws. I had instantly fallen in love with the white knight, which would protect and love my family for almost 10 years. My majestic wrinkled steed would eagerly await my return when I came home from work, and in the evening, when all had settled in for the night, my devoted Shar-pei would come and lie at my feet and nuzzle up to me with his rough muzzle and course hair. God I miss that handsome devil.
Back to the strand… I did not realize how much someone can mean to a person until she or he is no longer in your life. The strand was just a gentle reminder once again to me to take the time to love and honor those in my life…to appreciate every little portion of my loved ones from the soles of their feet to the strands of hair upon their heads. My Max has been gone for six years now. Just like all my other beloved furry kids who have crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. And even my dad, who’s now been gone nearly six years as well. Time waits for no one but a simple strand of hair can open your eyes and your heart without even realizing it. Take the time to enjoy the strands that hold the bonds of love in your life together. One day, these too shall pass.
By CarolAnn Bailey-Lloyd – Social Media Sorceress on current events, social media, philosophy and more!
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