Musical Escape....

I'm sitting here at my desk with my playlist going... in the same place I've been sitting for the last hour and a half. I'm up almost two hours past my bedtime, but I just can't seem to make myself press stop on my music. It's got me hooked. Sometimes when I'm listening to music, especially when I'm alone, I feel like I'm tuned into a different part of myself. It's like a much stronger version of how I feel when I'm at church. Strange I know.

Music truly is my escape from the world. Not always from bad things though. Music gives me my high. I apologize if that sounds wrong or inappropriate. Dancing used to be it for me, but as I've grown dancing has just become second nature. One of my students came up to me last week and asked why I was always twirling around. He even demonstrated what he'd been seeing. It kinda caught me off guard, I didn't realize that I'd been doing it. I looked at him and said, "I guess I must be happy, I dance when I'm happy." It's true. I do dance when I feel happy. My best school days are when I walk into the building with my iPod playing. It gets me fired up for the day. Music has been my escape since I can remember. I'm glad I have my music, even if I can't play an instrument, or sing well, music makes me happy.

Gone to forever chase his basketball...

Saturday brought great sadness to my family. Our beloved Wyatt decided that it was his time to join Papa. Wyatt's importance to me is unknown to many people. For it to be understood I have to go aways back.

When I was in kindergarten my dad found a beautiful dog at a job site. We named her Measha and she was part Husky, part wolf. She was a wonderful dog, however she liked to run away. On Christmas Eve morning she gifted us four precious puppies, 3 resembling her and 1 resembling... well something else. That of course was the puppy I feel in love with. We named in Bear and he was an amazing pet. He was the only puppy we kept and after Measha ran away again he was the only pet we had. We moved to a new house and he became our protector. We lived there for two years. Then came the time to move again. This time we were moving into an apartment. This meant that Bear needed a new home. My only happy thought was that my aunt and uncle were going to take him. Then they too had to move. My entire childhood I was told that a new home was found for my Bear. It wasn't until I was much older that I found out that I was lied to. I vowed I'd never again want a dog.

Then my senior year of high school my dad and I moved. One day he brought home this dog. This dog who snapped at me, and meant I had to do all of this extra work. I had to feed him, and make sure he had water, and take him our and play with him and let him outside. Slowly Wyatt wiggled his way into my heart. When dad started spending more time at his girlfriend's hosue Wyatt and I stayed home. He became my best friend, and greated me every day when I got home from school. Sure he slept with dad, until dad left for work, then it was my bed he wanted.

I remember the first time he had a seizure since we had him. It was the scariest day of my life! I was sitting in the dinning room at the computer desk and he walked past me. He was always walking over my feet. This time, however he ran into the desk. I looked down and realized that he was shaking. I ran for the phone and called my dad, who didn't answer. My next call was to Papa. He told me I just needed to sit with him, and that if I was still scared I should get my neighbor to sit with me until my dad got home. We sat on the porch, and the second Wyatt heard dad walking up he just jumped up like there was nothing wrong.

I'm sad that he's gone, but I feel honored that he felt safe enough with me to be willing to go in my arms. I'll miss Wyatt, but I'm thankful for all of the wonderful memories I have of him. He'll always be a part of my family.