It was a Tuesday afternoon in January when I heard the doorbell ring. I shuffled across the foyer in my pajamas, adjusted my lioness, bedhead mane in the mirror, and opened the front door. It was the UPS guy delivering a package. I happened to notice a little dog bone peaking out from underneath his sleeve. As I signed for the package, he asked somewhat timidly,
“Is Hank here?”
This is when I began questioning my place in the universe. I called to Hank, letting him know he had a visitor. Hank trotted up to his friend, received his treat and a pat on the head, and when they finished their salutations, I thanked the man and closed the door. Hank went back to sunning himself on the living room carpet, satiated, and I was left standing in the rubble of my past, present, and future – wondering how my life had gotten so off course.