Last night I had a dream about my dad... anyone who may have known him would know he was mean as all get out... but at the same time, he was funny. I get both my temper and my sense of humor from him. I don't remember my dad fearing anything minus 2 items... dogs and hornets. The hornet story is for a later time. The dog thing was a complication, seeing as how he was at the junk yard hours a week, pulling parts or having us search for parts. This activity was HATED by the rest of us, except for one thing. The potential of a dog- small or large, running from the back of the yard towards my old man. Dad had a stroke when I was about 5 and was paralyzed on his right side. His gate was a mess, his hand pretty useless, and it slowed him down...unless there was a dog. I watched that man scale a car hood in 2 seconds flat and never did we ever not laugh. It was the only time we could laugh at anything concerning him without being beaten. Sometime, when the dog showed itself it would be small and he would just stand on the hood of a car yelling at it- other times it would be a larger dog and with the speed and pure nike agility of a Duke boy he could slide up a windshield to the roof of a car in a split second. We actually had 2 small dogs growing up, a Boston Terrier and a mean Chihuahua. He seemed to loved these dogs and never feared them, even though the fat chihuahua attacked anyone but me with similar fierce intent as any junk yard dog. So, why he was afraid of unknown dogs is a mystery to be sorted from several of his life stories.

One tale was about the dogs in Korea when he was in the war, that hiding in fox holes with dogs after you has something to do with it.

Another was hiding in the forest near the coal mines from 'ingins' and slave traders where the dogs would bite at your feet to keep you walking.

Others were about wolves in the mountains, and one really good one where he was caught cheating on a test in 3rd grade and thrown to the dogs, never to return to school again.

Last night in the dream, I was on a walk with my dad and a mean pack of dogs 'came a runnin' only there was no car to run up on, scale or gain cussing distance between. In the dream I watched my dad look around at trees, but knowing he could not climb a tree, I kept throwing myself to the dogs. I never saw them in the dream. I could feel them, but I never saw them.

His hat fell off, navy Detroit Tigers hat with the embroidered 'D' on it I never saw him without unless we were watching boxing. When his hat fell off, he called out for the hat- not me. That was, in the dream, the last thing I recall being confused about- but accepting.

As I was waking up I am sure I had been thrashing about in the bed because under the light streaming in from the window was every dog eyes in the house on me. George had the blanket in his mouth-I think he was trying to wake me up. I sat still a second taking in what was the dream and what was the situation of having a K9 audience for awakening. No one moved. Not an ear bend, just still- looking at me. I didn't get up, I just lay back down and went off to sleep until my alarm went off about an hour later.

THIS time, when I woke up, I felt a heavy sort of pressure on my chest. When I pulled my head up, I realized that in that last hour of sleep my dogs had decided to work together and secure me to the bed. Almost like laces in a running shoe. I was in a pack ... well I was the bottom of the pack. Slowly, one by one- they woke and moved, no one was hyper or the usual morning snugly. George was slow and did not pull this morning in the slightest, and when I filled the food bowl no one came from sleeping to have breakfast. Even now, hours later everyone is really quite on the 4 legged front and I can not help but wonder- if I kept them awake or if they somehow absorbed my emotions from me during a bad dream. For some reason I am a bit less upset that George ate what was my last sandal last night. Some people are not 'dog people', and others' people are dogs.

I am the ladder.

I have her hands

Hands of a Rosie

Hands of hard work

Hands that fold in prayers

Hands of a servant's heart

Hands of a simple person

Hands that kept her family connected, one letter or card at a time.

Hands that spread kindness

Hands of a safe place

I have her hands that cared for four generations

I have her hands to keep loving for generations

I am both 100% in control and also in control of nothing. Trust the process 

I want to scream 

Trust the process 

coming here makes me anxious 

trust the process 

I don't want to study myself any longer 

trust the process 

I am broken no one knows me now

trust the process 

God has established that some people are meant to suffer, I accept that now

trust the process 

I don't know why I come here

trust the process 

I saw a movie you should see, it helped me see myself in the present 

trust the process 

Your office is comfortable, I do trust you, but please tell me how to be fixed 

trust the process 

I started looking at art instead of media and I feel different 

trust the process 

I come here, and I could just be praying... I think I just need to talk to God

trust the process 

Your office is fine, the music in the waiting room however could be changed beUSE IT MAKES ME ANXIOUS AS FUCK, YOU KNOW I AM CHRISTIAN BUT YOU PLAY THAT NEW AGE SPIRITUAL BULLSHIT AND IT MAKES ME THINK LESS OF YOUR STAKE IN MY MEntal health; please don't take offense to that; 

trust the process 

I have been praying more

trust the process

No one sees me 

trust the process 

I am so LONELY and you are not helping me 

trust the process 

If this is me now PLEASE HELP ME GET MEDICAL COVERAGE TO HAVE MY VOICEBOX REMOVED so I just can not talk ALL THE TIME

you would not be able to eat or shit properly. Worth it? Trust the process 

waiting room music is different, and everything in it which remained the same is now some how... funny; including 'trust the process'. 

life is shitty, like each bad thing is in actual equivalencies of measurement of how we view it. One shitty thing = 1 turd & vice verse.

do your shoes stink?

is your car full of shit? your kitchen? your house? where you sleep?

is where you sleep full of shit?

add up a quick snapshot of life age birth to current things with shit on them.

Are you hostile because you are trying to do everything every one THI*NKS you should, but can't

trust the process 

my 200 to do lists are scattered everywhere I don't know how to start because I don't know why I am doing what I am doing or how to process steps I took for granted my whole life 

trust the process 

Fine, I am decluttering my shit collection 

trust the process 

God help me be less like me

trust the process 

I don't want to be broken anymore 

trust the process 

talk to me so I understand you, please. say all the things I need to hear and when I ask, answer me honestly and tell me if I am doing it right

trust the process 

I am doing this all on my own now, why am I still coming here?

trust the process

I got it. I found this small bit of self

dry 

dry like a shredded twine around kindling anXIOUS TO BLOW UP OR FLICKer but please everything around me had become tinder and if I spark up I may cause a fire can you help me now?

trust the process 

im so tired im still so tired but I am here. I am here 

trust the process 

I got this list of behaviors I don't know why I do 

trust the process 

I am changing 

trust the process 

I am NOTHING I thought I was and everything I never expected yet it is neither constant or comfortable ever

I am a good person even when I failed and I do.. A LOT

I am decent, and my faith may be different then yours but its FINE 

I can have an opinion and not feel like someone either hates me or is gonna kill themselves because I am learning my words yet NONE of them seem right from my voice instead of writing 

Trust the process 

How long will this be?

Look at where you are, something must be happening that is 'right' or you would be way less. 

-r

The three stopped at a local second hand, in hopes of finding a gently used sleeping bag for an upcoming trip away from the troubles of man, in hopes of a bit of a recharge for what lay ahead. They walked up and down each isle of the world's leftovers, mistaken or lost purchases, forgotten interests and cast away wishes, for the trio however... precious treasures. 

Preoccupied with his cell phone continuously sending notifications, time suddenly became a concept again. "We will have to borrow one, time is running short" his words traveling over the isle instinctively knowing the location of his son's voice who had been asking questions when time became of importance. 

It was a very bright day, the sun drastically making the front of the store warmer. It was one of those uncanny-valley experiences; to walk from basic banal comfort into the warmer greenhouse effect closer to the doors and then a blast of icy winter air, defeating the illusion of the ball of fire in the sky. 

"We have just a little bit of time, his voice " bounced around and added to the noises of the street and people going out about their lives. A million conversations seemed to be happening on that small side street, and ten times louder in perception until he heard the last click of the seat belt, and closed the door; his son safe. 

The car ride was quiet. His son intently looking out his window and the world moved around the small wooden lamb from his pocket now enjoying it's own

very realistic green screen via the car window. The lamb ran along the street, stopping a few times before the change in the light began a new adventure. 

Colin, the driver of the small car was a nice man. He always drove the car now, since reporters followed them everywhere and his father's name was all over the radio and even television. 

"Are we all good, sir?" Colin asked as they turned from the side street to a more main road; his eyes simultaneously checking to make sure a second car now was following them. He knew that things in his life were different, but as most children with a loving and caring father, he took things most would find stressful as an adult with a gracious and calm appreciation. This could have been attributed to most of the others around him, too. Like Colin. Everyone knew the pressure on Colin. Being willing to give your very life for someone who started out as just a stranger can have an effect on a man, this just increases when that one stranger becomes closer than a brother and no more a job than life.

He knew Colin was there to keep him safe, too because there was a nickname for him on the radio, just like his father - it was not at all hidden that Colin thought no differently between the protection from the man his son, despite what protocol may deem. It was stressful and at times, down right awkward to have someone in your presence at all times, watching over every flaw, failure, even illness and success. At the same time, he was such a comfort as their relationship grew. The man's family loved knowing Colin. Thankful and overjoyed to get to know this man who was once a stranger and now an intricate part of their lives was a huge perk of all the stressors this life could be. "We would not be able to get where we need to go without you, son" he said in a very kind voice as he patted Colin on the shoulder, squeezing him gently. 

The boy always liked to hear the two talk on long trips or even just about current events. Some people hated his father since he started this job, which did not make a lot of sense to the boy, because he had been told over and over his father was '...for the common good' or '...just what the world needed'. He was also not able to be sheltered from some of the other things he heard strangers say about him, that he was an 'evil conservative' or something called a 'hippy socialist' depending who was doing the speaking of his name. 

"The Dove has landed", Colin said in a flat and hushed tone into a bluetooth headset. Silence. Colin winked at the boy, looked into the review mirror and said "copy", before turning into the hospital drive. 

Seconds after stopping, and tall man with dark skin and a black suit opened the car door, with what seemed to be a very proud looking face as he nodded and said something the boy was not paying much attention to; he wrapped his scarf around his neck and paused, knowing to wait for Colin to open the door. Their eyes met, and the boy though he saw his friend crying. Noticing, Colin was quick to say, "watch the wind now, it'll sting ya". 

Everyone entered the hospital and were led to a staff elevator at the end of a long hallway where they in silence loaded onto the lift and went to the 3rd floor where a doctor and another man in a black suit met them. "Right this way sir, so nice to see you again" the doctor said nervously. Her face quickly went from kind to a more serious expression as she greeted each person as they stepped off the lift. A room close to the elevators awaited them and the group took a moment to fill the seats at the long dark table. 

Two men stood outside the room, several more came in just a moment later and The doctor who just a moment ago seemed a bit starstruck cleared her throat. His father smiled at the boy as all the chairs turned to face the doctor as she spoke. Her words seemed very grown up and scientific to him, so he reached in his coat pocket for his adventurous wooden toy. His father saw his son's affect as a time to clear his own throat, everyone became quiet again. 

"We have all the information" he started. "We are all on the same page with legal, and in regard to what we are looking at here..." he paused. The boy forgot about the lamb for a moment and fixed on his father's tone he listened carefully. 

"Son, we have a bit of a dilemma here" he started. "Do you know what a dilemma is?" the sentence ended. "Like a puzzle?" his small voice filled the large room. "Yes." All the chairs now seemed poised looking at the conversation being had as if it were the night the boy sat with a different group of adults the night before the big party and everything changed. That memory made the boy instantly look away from his father, and to Colin- remembering that being the first night they met. Colin flashed a quick sort of smile; just as quickly he looked down as to avoid his attention. 

"So let's talk about our puzzle" his father's words feeling like a stomach ache sounds. "The people are still getting sick, some sicker, and many are dying. It has been two years now and if we do not find a cure, the thing making everyone sick will spread around the world..." his words trailed off a bit. "I know Dad" his small voice sounding more secure than any of the faces in the room looked. 

Only allowing a small silence in the conversation, his father spoke again. "When we signed up to help, things were different and I know so much has changed." This time, his pause was much more unintentional, his face changed a bit and he started again.

"Son, who am I?" he asked 

"My dad" the boy beaming a grin back at him. 

The room made a collective sound that bordered on sad and 'awe'. When this happen, several faces at the table looked as if they did not want to be there. 

"I mean, to the people- who am I?" he asked his question again. 

"Well, you try and help all people and you go all over the world and talk to people and there is no one you do not work for" he said. Then raising an eyebrow he quickly said "You are President but one that is my dad". 

"I am" the father said. 

"Son these people are all here because when we signed up to help find a way to make people better, all over the world- any one human being who volunteered to help.." his son interrupted, "when we gave blood?" he asked. "Yes' he responded flatly. "Well, we share something very special in our blood. Something in our blood can be used to fight and stop the sickness".

"The reason people are dying?" his eyes widened. 

"Yes". 

At this point, a doctor attempted to try and help the discussion out of empathy, but the first word was cut by one of the men at the table raising a hand to him as if asking the doctor to wait. 

"They can use our blood like medicine?" he asked. "Sort of, but as I mentioned we do have a dilemma still. Puzzle I mean ... let's not use puzzle son, we have a choice to make, this is about making a choice." His dad held his hand on the table top and all eyes seemed locked on such a tender moment when the boy's father looked deeply at his son and said, "No one will take my blood son. I am not a scientist nor am I an attorney and it may not make sense son, but I can not fight the law and that law means I can not give my..." he stammered, swallowed hard and finished, "blood". 

Silence filled the room and feeling the awkwardness he looked around at the people around the table and said, "what about me? What about my blood, I have no laws on me, but I have the same blood, can I make the medicine?" He looked again toward his dad for approval. 

"Yes. You can give your blood. That is our choice to make, you do not have to". 

"Do you want me to do it?" the son asked. No one spoke. The room smelled now deeply of perfume and hand sanitizer. The boy searched out the faces of the room when he noticed Colin wearing his driving glasses. He never saw him wearing them inside before. 

The man who had stopped the doctor from interjecting a few moments ago now himself spoke, "The doctors need it all, son" he managed to say at almost a whisper that seemed endlessly to echo as the boy worked out what was being asked. 

"All?" he said 

"Yes' his father answered 

"Can a person live with no blood?' the innocent voice ended the emotional echo that has still been ringing. 

"No" 

A woman stood up as if to try and escape. She pretended to adjust her chair and sat back down. 

Colin put his hand to his ear and within seconds a knock on the door and nearly everyone stood from the table and filed toward the door. The father and son remained. Others present moved to a corner of the room and were seated out of earshot of the conversation being had. 

"Dove is in flight" Colin said in the same cadence and voice he always did. 

The car pulled from the gates traveling the very quiet 33 minutes leading to a long private drive wherein a small group awaited the arrival of the Presidential vehicles.  Service members folded a flag and handed it to the President, the sentiment being that his son still served not only his own people, but humanity. 

A small part of the service was televised and social media across the globe were pouring out love for the boy who gave his life in hopes of healing the sick and saving lives. The Father turned off all media and took those few days away he had been wanting since that cold winter day. Spring was starting and he used the three days away from everything secret service would allow to reflect. 

"Sir" he paused. "It may be a small peace to know the trials have went well. All 2000 people have been cured, those who were at deaths door weeks ago are already seeing improvement, and sir..." he continued "people everywhere have been inspired to..." he fought back a tearful tone thinking lovingly of the boy with a hardy gulp, "... continue doing acts of kindness..." he finished quickly and followed up with, "We will be leaving in 10 minutes, sir". He walked from the room, leaving the man one last moment to prepare for the second half of his life now.

"The Dove is flying back to the nest" Colin rattled off as he turned back toward the his home, alone for the first time since moving in. 

Months had passed and the world as always, changed in waves. There was less talk of people dying from the virus everyday, but a new uprising of questioning the events once praised globally. It was the drive back he started silently at first reading headlines and looking at some of the seedling conversation that the virus was government created and the loss of his only child an elaborate story for 'the numbers', only headline reading, 'President faked sons death for ratings'. Reading this caused him to feel ill and he decided to put it out of his mind, thinking instead that the positive happening meant his son's act of kindness will not be slighted, insulted, or made to have been for nothing. 

His first meeting was much of the normal discussion, and then updates and issues were discussed in a very sterile non candy coated context regarding the numbers of people choosing not to take the vaccine or medication for the sickness that seemed to be ebbing and flowing with it's impact, globally. The meeting felt like 3000 years not three hours and mostly dealing with the healing miracle medicine trending criticism and having it's truth questioned.

He rose from his seat.

"Let them die" he said.

Quite filled the room and several people closed their notebooks. 

"Continue to give freely the medication, globally. Help all who accept my grief as their life. Do not make it mandatory, even for those working with me, in my administration. Should anyone refuse, let them die. I gave them everything; I do not control free will continue to make the medication and have no sanctions placed regarding it. Nothing about the gift of my son to this earth is to be used to create controversy or dispute." 

He stood, scanned the room making sure to look at every face surrounding him. "Punish no one who refuses, refutes, condemns, or blasphemes any part of what has been done. Deny no one who seeks the medication and make clear reports of the good news my child's sacrifice offers, free treatment proven to heal for life. I refuse to rule a nation or be a leader in anger or anything but fairness, offer all but make no demands at any point." With that, he rose and thanked those who went through this process with them. 

Quietly the room emptied. He called for Colin. "My son wrote this for you the night before we went for the... procedure" he said, extending his arm with letter in hand. Both stood for a moment and slowly the letter was opened. 

'... Please don't get sick. I have enjoyed knowing you. I love you. Keep me alive in your words and stories. I am not afraid to die, I am afraid of you getting sick. No one should suffer because I made sure to really mean it when I said yes. I won't forget you...' 

Love, 

Mannie 

"Sir, may I keep the letter?" Colin asked not looking up from the words. 

"Yes. In fact, copy it and share it as often as you are reminded of it"

r2