The Pack

They are out there again.

Their howls were faint at first but every few days that familiar

eerie chorus seems a little closer as they circle.

Watching.

Waiting.

Sometimes they are silent. Sometimes they retreat a bit.

They are tentative. Not sure the time is right. Not quite sure

if they have been summoned.

I know this pack. They made their first appearance when

I was thirteen.They came very quickly and stayed for nearly

a year.

My mother and her friend Betty talked several times.

'I thought it would be okay - they are both so young.'

'It was so innocent - the most they did was hold hands.'

And yet I felt broken.

They came again when I became pregnant at eighteen.

Then I gave him up for adoption.

Their ranks grew. They must have called for reinforcements.

The rank and file was tired. This turned out to be a very along stay.

A very long stay indeed.

They have come for shorter visits. When they leave and the hazy veil

of despair is lifted I hope it is the last I will see of them.

But their path is well traveled. They know the way in their bones.

They have been visiting my ancestors for centuries.

I was not to be spared.

The very darkest, most debilitating visit occurred when my beautiful

twins arrived. I could not sleep for the incessant howling of the

pack. The noise was deafening when I nursed my babies.

I was a prisoner, a slave to them again. They fed on my panic,

on my feelings of being trapped - a prisoner in my own home.

They finally left after six months. Now and again I would find the

tufts of their undercoats under a high chair, behind a crib.

Little testaments to their visit.

They call to me every few years or so.

This time I heard them early - I went for help sooner.

And I am taking care of myself better.

And yet they wait.

I visualize running them off. A screaming banshee with a big stick.

I visualize them losing interest and wandering off.

I visualize a peace of mind descending and a serenity that stays.

And the seeds of hope fall out of my clenched fists as they

slowly relax and open.

And I pray for rain.

Mommy and Daddy were just exercising

We just returned from our annual pilgrimage to Minnesota

for the clan family reunion.

The weather was not what a Minnesotan might call ideal lake

weather but for this southern crew it was pure bliss.

Nights were down in the 50's and days varied by the hour but I

don't think ever tipped in to the 80's.

Oh, to sleep with windows open and hear the loons. Heaven.

Due to the weather there was some TV watching going on.

One late afternoon The Bunny and some of his male cousins

were watching and a public service commercial came on that

mentioned the word sex several times. There was a lot of

snickering going on in that room every time the word was

uttered.

Finally the Bunny piped up,

'Why do they keep saying sex so much?

Why don't they ever just call it fitness?!?'