Presence

The warm weird weather, a walk with the dog, whose health is precarious lately, but for the moment, she’s trotting along, tail wagging, stopping every now and then to sniff a tree. What information is she picking up about the world? Speaking of the world, 

it’s bad. In this moment, though, here, standing with the dog in front of a yard with an inflatable Santa faceplanted on the grass, it’s pretty good. Back home, my visiting daughter is doing a puzzle, and in a few minutes, I’ll join her. My husband will heat up leftovers from the amazing meal our son-in-law made on Christmas. But first, we’ll grab some crackers and scarf down more of his pimento cheese dip. I have to tell you about this pimento cheese dip. 

Our son-in-law is a chef at a gourmet sandwich shop, and last year he created a sandwich that featured pimento cheese, and it was such a hit that the restaurant has started selling it in little tubs. Of course we wanted to try this recipe, thinking he’d bring along a little tub with him, but he did one better. He whipped up a vat in our kitchen, which is good, because we’re all addicted to it. I can’t say enough about this cheese dip. It renews my faith in the world. And I say this as a person, who until five days ago, did not have an opinion one way or another about pimento cheese dip. 

But right now, I'm existing in the moment with the dog as she completes her sniffs, the sun reflecting off the face-planted Santa, the neighborhood kids riding past us on their bikes, shouting back and forth at each other. 

They’re wearing shorts, which I know has got to be a sign of something bad, but the kids look happy. Maybe this is it. The end of the world, but with happy kids in shorts and a trotting dog, 

family and cheese dip waiting for me at home.