It happened when I was in with John too-in the midst of grieving for him, I remembered Dottie's first visit to the nursing home in California, and had a spasm of grief on grief.
I am pretty sure some of my favorite angels are near these days, and that's why I'm reacting so, and I'm glad they are here, even if it hurts for a moment too.
I thought how alike Priss and I are-the eternal children. Prissy is no more a baby dog than I am-but she's always been "little Dottie", and I have perhaps stood back from her since Dottie died and that isn't fair. She was really proud and happy to be the dog riding shotgun, just as I was proud and happy to be the person who took care of John.
As always, I enjoyed driving over the Arbuckle mountains. Once a range the size of the Rockies, the Arbuckles are now more like hills-but their raw bones break the surface of the earth. I always marvel that the rock face I am looking at was once buried deep within a huge mountain-truly the skeletal system is all that remains. When I pass by, I mentally lay my cheek against the cool stone and feel as if I'm touching the soul of the ancient mountain.
It was nice to rest my heart on mother earth and feel the road pass under my wheels. It's easier for me to touch the timeless and nameless when I am flying over the ground and I am grateful for the chance.