Ok I'm not the author of this, but it is so touching that I just had to share it. Enjoy!
"Were you expecting life to have a happy ending?"
"What?" I asked. The dog was sitting at the base of the tree looking up at me. I was sitting in my tree house. I don't know how I got up there. Actually, there was no tree house, just what I perceived. To a colorblind person, the world is shades of grey. To an insect, the world is blue. To a shark, the world is electric. To me at the time, the world was a tree house, protecting me, yet resting precariously in the fork of an old, rotted tree. It sat in a meadow. The grass had been cut short by the cows. Cows are good.
"I said, were you expecting life to have a happy ending?" said the dog.
"I guess I never thought about it. I was kinda hoping. Yeah." I said.
The dog said, "Well, then I won't give away the ending."
I recognized the dog. It was Peppy - my collie from when I was six. I loved that dog.
"How come you never talked to me before?" I asked.
"You didn't need me to before." he replied.
I looked at Peppy more closely. He was the familiar tan and white collie mix that I remember. He had the same scar under his mouth from where he got hit by the car and lived. He even had the little red hole in his side from when he was shot by the neighbor - and didn't.
"But you died." I said. "I saw you when I got home from school. The neighbor shot you. He left you in the front yard for me to find when I got off the bus."
"That was 30 years ago. Let it go." Peppy said.
"But aren't you mad about that?" I asked.
"I'm over it." he said. "Remember a couple years later when he rolled his tractor? You secretly wished he hadn't survived didn't you?"
"I never told anyone that." I said.
"He was your best friend's dad. Dog's can be replaced. Dads cannot. You should not have wished that."
"I was a kid." I replied.
"You aren't any more. We don't forgive for the sake of other people. We forgive for the sake of ourselves." said Peppy. "If you can't forgive, you carry the anger with you forever. Every thing that you can't forgive becomes a cloud, until you eventually have a full-blown storm in your head."
"I don't have a storm in my head. I'm just fine." I said.
Peppy scratched his ear with his hind leg and said, "Let's take a look at the situation. You are sitting in an imaginary tree house, in an imaginary tree. You are talking to your dog that died 30 years ago. Yeah, I'd say you are just fine." Said Peppy.
"OK, that sounds just crazy when you say it that way." I said. "What should I do?"
"Forgive. Let go of the bad things that have happened in the past. Only then can you see the world clearly."
I thought about this while Peppy dragged his butt in the grass.
"Sorry," Peppy said. "That was rude."
"That's alright. I forgive you."
And then all the little slights of all the years came rushing forward. All the things I should have let go, and never did for some reason. None of them were really that important. Some of them seemed so at the time. As I let go of each memory, the tree house started to dissolve. The Tree disappeared. The dog and the grass upon which he sat disappeared. The reality hit me. I was sitting on the ledge of a building. People were congregating below. Police and firemen were gathered beneath me.
"What am I doing here? I better get down." I thought.
"Yes, you better." I heard the voice say.
If you want to know the origional author I can direct you to some more of his stuff.
"Were you expecting life to have a happy ending?"
"What?" I asked. The dog was sitting at the base of the tree looking up at me. I was sitting in my tree house. I don't know how I got up there. Actually, there was no tree house, just what I perceived. To a colorblind person, the world is shades of grey. To an insect, the world is blue. To a shark, the world is electric. To me at the time, the world was a tree house, protecting me, yet resting precariously in the fork of an old, rotted tree. It sat in a meadow. The grass had been cut short by the cows. Cows are good.
"I said, were you expecting life to have a happy ending?" said the dog.
"I guess I never thought about it. I was kinda hoping. Yeah." I said.
The dog said, "Well, then I won't give away the ending."
I recognized the dog. It was Peppy - my collie from when I was six. I loved that dog.
"How come you never talked to me before?" I asked.
"You didn't need me to before." he replied.
I looked at Peppy more closely. He was the familiar tan and white collie mix that I remember. He had the same scar under his mouth from where he got hit by the car and lived. He even had the little red hole in his side from when he was shot by the neighbor - and didn't.
"But you died." I said. "I saw you when I got home from school. The neighbor shot you. He left you in the front yard for me to find when I got off the bus."
"That was 30 years ago. Let it go." Peppy said.
"But aren't you mad about that?" I asked.
"I'm over it." he said. "Remember a couple years later when he rolled his tractor? You secretly wished he hadn't survived didn't you?"
"I never told anyone that." I said.
"He was your best friend's dad. Dog's can be replaced. Dads cannot. You should not have wished that."
"I was a kid." I replied.
"You aren't any more. We don't forgive for the sake of other people. We forgive for the sake of ourselves." said Peppy. "If you can't forgive, you carry the anger with you forever. Every thing that you can't forgive becomes a cloud, until you eventually have a full-blown storm in your head."
"I don't have a storm in my head. I'm just fine." I said.
Peppy scratched his ear with his hind leg and said, "Let's take a look at the situation. You are sitting in an imaginary tree house, in an imaginary tree. You are talking to your dog that died 30 years ago. Yeah, I'd say you are just fine." Said Peppy.
"OK, that sounds just crazy when you say it that way." I said. "What should I do?"
"Forgive. Let go of the bad things that have happened in the past. Only then can you see the world clearly."
I thought about this while Peppy dragged his butt in the grass.
"Sorry," Peppy said. "That was rude."
"That's alright. I forgive you."
And then all the little slights of all the years came rushing forward. All the things I should have let go, and never did for some reason. None of them were really that important. Some of them seemed so at the time. As I let go of each memory, the tree house started to dissolve. The Tree disappeared. The dog and the grass upon which he sat disappeared. The reality hit me. I was sitting on the ledge of a building. People were congregating below. Police and firemen were gathered beneath me.
"What am I doing here? I better get down." I thought.
"Yes, you better." I heard the voice say.
If you want to know the origional author I can direct you to some more of his stuff.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
havilah:
Why, thank you
cockzombie:
there goes cinnamongirl hitting on the men folk. This ones MINE, bee-oytch