On any given
day, Mickey usually takes out both Cinh and Dink for a quick walk out in the
front yard while I dress. Today isn’t
one of those. It’s still vacation away
from the academia; it is also one mild temp day of summer, and I was upbeat for
a morning stroll.
I took out Cinn (short for Cinnamon), not only for her routine morning walk, but also for company. Unlike DINKY (from acronym: double income, no kids yet), Cinn is a non-complainer … perfect for any challenges one puts in her way. We went down the path towards our neighbor Ginger’s house. Nothing special about that path other than it’s almost always traffic-free. The path is a mix of downtrodden dirt, gravel, old asphalt. The sandy-grindy path must be uncomfortable to Cinn’s bare paws, but on each side, lie an unattended vegetation of sorts and interesting enough for her active, curious smelling machine. She sniffs at every nook and cranny of the path, and aggressively checks out every bunch of living wild bush and grass along the way. I, on the other hand, acquiesced to her every jerk and pull coming through the leash gently wound up around my wrist. I walked along simply breathing in the quiet morning environ, and allowing the soft, cool breeze to wake up my cranium.
Once done with exploration, and her night water passing on select spot, we head back to the house. Instead of the usual walk up the gravel-filled driveway, Cinn takes us back to the house through a grassy, mulchy path. There, I spot quite a young fallen squirrel. I could tell it just met its end. It has that look of one snapped out untimely of its life. How and when did its life get extinguished? Did it accidentally fall from a playful climb up the oak tree where it now rests under, or was it pushed out and down tragically? “Never mind the how and the why”, I mutter.
The sight and reality of a life put to a HALT startles and adds a chill to my brain. It begins its flips, tumbles and turns, like a gymnast on a floor exercise. No doubt about it … life and death takes a front seat. It is an end to a beginning. A familiar tune softly hums in my head - “to everything, turn … turn; there’s a season …”
I took out Cinn (short for Cinnamon), not only for her routine morning walk, but also for company. Unlike DINKY (from acronym: double income, no kids yet), Cinn is a non-complainer … perfect for any challenges one puts in her way. We went down the path towards our neighbor Ginger’s house. Nothing special about that path other than it’s almost always traffic-free. The path is a mix of downtrodden dirt, gravel, old asphalt. The sandy-grindy path must be uncomfortable to Cinn’s bare paws, but on each side, lie an unattended vegetation of sorts and interesting enough for her active, curious smelling machine. She sniffs at every nook and cranny of the path, and aggressively checks out every bunch of living wild bush and grass along the way. I, on the other hand, acquiesced to her every jerk and pull coming through the leash gently wound up around my wrist. I walked along simply breathing in the quiet morning environ, and allowing the soft, cool breeze to wake up my cranium.
Once done with exploration, and her night water passing on select spot, we head back to the house. Instead of the usual walk up the gravel-filled driveway, Cinn takes us back to the house through a grassy, mulchy path. There, I spot quite a young fallen squirrel. I could tell it just met its end. It has that look of one snapped out untimely of its life. How and when did its life get extinguished? Did it accidentally fall from a playful climb up the oak tree where it now rests under, or was it pushed out and down tragically? “Never mind the how and the why”, I mutter.
The sight and reality of a life put to a HALT startles and adds a chill to my brain. It begins its flips, tumbles and turns, like a gymnast on a floor exercise. No doubt about it … life and death takes a front seat. It is an end to a beginning. A familiar tune softly hums in my head - “to everything, turn … turn; there’s a season …”
I switch on
to a reflective moment. The sight of
that fallen squirrel foreshadows and catches. It is forcing me to get a glimpse
of my own life cycle snapshot. An
exhilarating, yet uncertain ending crystalizes.
In a few weeks, I will call quits a 7 to 9 waking, working day. Soon
there will be a halt … an end.
What’s next?
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