The Pact

Today Ty-Baby and I took a walk around Liberty Park. The leaves are just starting to change, and the air is just that much more crisp. I LOVE IT. As we walked, I couldn't help but feel heavy. See, I have this problem. I think too much. I think too much about what I'm not doing now, or what I am doing wrong. I think too much about the future, and how it's going to be -- or not be. I worry. I anxiety-ize. For some weird reason, I have this sense of urgency -- a feeling that tells me that life is too short, that time is quickly passing me by, and that I need to make every second count. Thus, when I find myself just sitting, doing nothing, the anxiety sets in. Or if a day goes by that, in my opinion, nothing was accomplished in, I feel that urge again. Go ahead. Just say it. I know you're thinking it. Take. A. Chill. Pill. I'm trying, ok!?!

Anyway, I was feeling this a little as we were walking through the park, but nevertheless, I couldn't help but be taken in by the tall, shady trees, the green grass, and the orange and yellow leaves scattered around. The sight made me think of Portland. And I loved it even more. In the midst of these tall trees and Northwest-esque beauty, there sat a stone table and benches. I told Tyler we should go and sit at it, thinking we needed to take this all in. We sat down and studied the inappropriate drawings on the table, trying not too read too much into them, and then started talking about our future. I pointed out that I'd like to return to this exact table and play chess on it one day. Tyler said he would rather play Boggle. But whatever. The rollerbladers and the men in short shorts continued to go past us. We talked about life. To be or not to be. You know. And then I decided it was time. While we have talked about what we want to do with our lives many times, I have also noticed how many times I say I'm going to go on a diet, binge the night before as a "Last Supper," and then spot that tub of German Chocolate ice cream in the freezer, ending all good intentions ever conjured up in my willing, but weak mind. No, "to talk" was not going to work this time. I told Tyler, "Ty-baby cakes. Honey sweet muffin. My vida. My amor. We need to make a pact." "What kind of pact?" he asked, hoping to high heavens it wasn't going to have anything to do with him sporting a pink tutu or letting me put mascara on him...again. "We need to promise each other," I replied, with all the seriousness of a black bean, "that we will make something of our lives. That we will do something of significance. That we won't be content to just sit back and watch life pass us by." I paused for dramatic effect, studying his facial response. After what seemed like hours of suspense, he smiled, took my hand, and said, "Ok!" And there you have it. OK people! Just as we made our pact, shaking on it like two corporate excutives having just signed a $845 billion deal with the intent of obliterating the livelihoods of the entire 99% of the U.S. population, we saw a metaphor for our life promise to one another....

One grey shitzu was tied to a brown shitzu and they were without an owner, walking freely on the sidewalk, only tied to one another. When one would start wandering off the paved path, probably to pee on a tree, the other would stop, and tug it back to the sidewalk, setting it on the correct course, once again. The moral of the story is, when Tyler goes off of the sidewalk to pee on a tree, I will pull him back in, and we will continue on our journey of life, trying to make a difference in a world that makes us feel so inadequate and small. With blood promises made (ok, so we didn't cut our palms and press them together like I wanted to...Tyler said that's how people get AIDS), we get ready to take on another week of school, of work, and of learning to be husband and wife. Meanwhile, those shitzus continue to walk around the park, fighting each other for the right to pee. And just as long as they don't ****zu in the park, life is good...