Dog Walk

Scene: the grassy area behind my block of buildings between the condo buildings and garages.  I'm wearing my pajamas (lime green t-shirt, bright aqua shorts - not exactly subtle), complete with toothpaste on the shirt.  I haven't touched my ponytail, and there are lumps and pieces sticking out all over.  My face looks...tired.  And busted.  I'm struggling to get Maddy to walk in her new "flippers" - basically braces for her legs that have rubber bands hooked around her toenails to keep her feet from flipping over, or knuckling.  The brace part chafes her legs, so she has socks on under them, as well as her huge harness that resembles a life jacket and has two handles on top so I can help her up stairs, or keep her from falling in it when she is doing her business...

One of the families from the building next door emerges - mom is fresh from the shower, looking casual but nice in white shorts and a flowy top; dad is dressed much like JP (khaki shorts, polo, baseball cap); daughter is probably about 2, and she says good morning to Maddy.  They're out for a walk with their dog.  Watching them stroll down the street, the picture of the happy family, I just got so sad.  That tableau is exactly what I had imagined for my little family - out for a walk on a holiday weekend with our dog and baby.  Instead, my parents are the ones who take Max out in his stroller, and I am the subject of the neighbors' pity when they see me out with my crippled dog in all her contraptions, with her bleeding toes.   

I see little reminders of the future I had hoped for, which is no longer possible, all the time.  I know that regardless of what comes next for us, there is always going to be that twinge of sorrow when I see dads pushing strollers, or playing ball with their sons, happy families out to eat...

And it just pretty much sucks.

Here is Maddy in her finery: