Exhale

Late Friday night, while I relaxed in my NCTE hotel room, I got a message from Shawn. It was our dog, and it wasn't good. He was planning to take him into the vet and predicting the worst. I told Shawn I would be okay, and to do what he felt was best. 

In my mind, I was thinking, we've been here before, and he's been okay. 

This did feel different, though, and I hated the fact I wasn't home to help.

The next morning Shawn texted me that he was not improving, couldn't walk, and he had made the appointment after talking with the vet on the phone. The appointment was at 10:30, and he would text me when he could afterward. 

I lost my breath for a moment while sitting in a room full of people listening to amazing authors talk about their books. 

I got up and went to stand by a window in the main hall. I was grateful for the one tissue I had shoved in my purse that morning. Dabbing the two tears that were stuck in the corners of my eyes, I breathed in, I held it and clenched my hand. I didn't want to feel this right then. I didn't want it at all. 

I walked for a moment. Breathing. Walking. Exhaling like I was blowing out a candle, but it wouldn't go out.