It was at Golgotha…
Three crosses lined up at Calvary.
A sacrifice was made.
A body broken.
The cruelest death.
An abandonment.
Scorned, betrayed, forsaken by all.
But still he went.
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
And he did it for love.
With his last breathe he conquered death.
“It is finished.”
Famous last words.
A sacrifice was made,
and it was for love.
Young love is fire.
It’s the that look in his eyes as he watches her laugh.
Young love is heated fights and the joy of making up.
It’s creating a life together in a foreign land.
Young love is carefree and brand new.
It’s the foundation for the rest of your lives together.
Young love is her hand in his.
It’s the birth of three baby girls that look like mini versions of you.
Young love is joy.
It is finding the one and never letting them go.
I am filled with a strange reassurance when I smell the salty, cornchip scent of a sleeping puppy beside me.
I know I am safe, because the moment I wake I can hear the soft rustle of fur and muscles stretching and dog tags jingling as he starts the morning with me.
Big brown eyes watch my every move and my every food.
A big brown nose bops me in the side when he deems he hasn’t received enough attention.
He does not snuggle but, the pitter patter of padded feet signal unconditional love arriving by my side.
My eternal puppy, it’s hard to see the passage of time in his face, but I see it in the way he lags behind on a long walk, or the way he waits for me to carry him in and out of the truck.
I try not to dwell too much on the passage of time or my heart will break.
What did I ever do to deserve such a good boy?
The fluff of my fluff, the love of my life.
She comes in with fire cutting through the lingering chill of Winter, ushering in the Spring.
She’s all limbs and languid movements. Never in a rush, arriving perfectly on time.
Like a cat laying in a ray of light at just the right time of day.
She loves doggies and watching people fall.
Especially if they’re doing something stupid, they probably deserve it.
She loves a good laugh, even if it’s at her own expense.
Silly girl, who could possibly laugh at you?
And when she laughs and smirks at the absurdity of living, you cannot help but laugh with her.
I want to say I sleep better when you’re with me.
I can’t.
I’m so used to being on my own.
Taking up space.
Sleeping like a starfish.
But I have to say, I’d rather sleep poorly with your body next to mine, than well all alone.
The Secret Life of Pandas 