Not Enough

Sometimes, the millions of words in my head fail me.  Abysmal as I am in putting together all the necessary words for a spontaneous conversation, I must often resort to writing down what I would like to convey. Even then, sometimes the portrait I have constructed with my words -- despite the hours I have invested -- is woefully inadequate.  My story, my correspondence, my simple sentences:  all, not enough.

There are times when I wish I had the ability to communicate, with a simple gesture or a touch, what is in my thoughts and in my heart.  How frighteningly powerful that would be.  How dangerously raw, too.  It would likely be too much for another person.  Some things are best left unsaid.

It would be easier with animals, for they are free of the constraints that hinder human beings.  No societal conventions, no misunderstood language, no hidden messages.  No baggage of history.  They are in the moment, and the moment is all. Simple.

Today, I wish that I could convey to our Ottoman dog, Thorbert, how much we care for him, how grateful we are that he is with us, and how we are trying to help him.

He's a smart dog.  He might already know.