Ritual
I’ll admit it. This word has stumped me. I have rituals in my life but I don’t know if
I can expound on just one to complete a whole page.
My first thought was to write about the
ritual this country goes through every four years. Election hype. It seems to start 18 months after a new
President is elected. Speculation about
who might be eyeing the prize that goes on until wannabes start declaring their
candidacy. Every word, every movement, every
nuance is scrutinized.
And then come the debates…
And the pundits, aka talking heads, before
AND after…
Who’ll drop out, what do the polls say this very
nano second…
And the live Twitter feeds go crazy!!!!!
(And I kinda get into it.) It’s become
this country’s ritual.
But I want to talk about a ritual that’s way
more fun and happens every night.
You can tell when Arthur gets antsy and wants
me and Ed to head for bed. Do you think
it is because he is tired? Absolutely not.
Ed and I do our individual before bed routines and then climb under the
covers. Our furry four-footed Pembroke
Welsh Corgi…yes, Arthur…flies
his long short-legged body into our bed.
He knows he’s in for wrestling and playing and petting. Arthur knows Mom will hide under the covers
and make him have to find her. Arthur
knows Dad will wrestle with him. Arthur
knows this ritual like the back of his hand.
But smart doggy…he
knows when Ed turns on his side and I turn on my stomach, it’s sleeping
time. He dutifully knows his ritual is
to bound off the bed and land on his soft bed on the floor adjacent where we
sleep for the night. And he smiles as he
goes off to sleep thinking, “Oh boy! I
get to do this again tomorrow!”
