March 1, 2020

White Dog watched me flip the page on my desk calendar and sort of grunted. "That extra February day did nothing at all to give us more time." "Is this the beginning of an existentialist discussion about the passage of time or is there something more specific that has you fretting," I asked her. With White Dog you never can guess; things could easily delve into philosophy or the arrival of fresh asparagus at the market.

"Today is March first," she said and I waited. "March FIRST. The beginning of your birthday month. It is only 14 days away and we have not had a single meeting to begin planning. Dad has not once mentioned gift ideas. The menu? The buildup? We have all just let this creep up on us."

"Breathe, Little White Dog of My Heart. I swear the longer we share our life journeys, the more like this momma you become. You are an obsessive planner." I kissed her face. "And I love you for who you are, don't get me wrong. But how about this year we adopt the theme 'Life flows like a river' and just try to add a bit of whim of the moment and spontaneous craziness to the celebration. Kind of a White Dog Army version of March Madness."

She laughed. "Momma, you just made a SPORTS reference. How unlike you. And it will be a contest if we go that route which one of us breaks first and resorts to planning, but sure, let's give it a whirl. We all have fallen into planning everything because of your health and our very regulated routine. it will be interesting to see if we can manage living in the moment."

I looked at the calendar I still held. "Did you know Daylight Savings Time begins NEXT week? We lose an hour's sleep and you will all think you have won the mealtime lotto...and it will be daylight longer in the evening."

White Dog looked at me. "Momma. In. the. moment. remember?"