The Best Blessing Yet!

It was a funny thing, paddling out there into the open water, slowly but surely closing in on Matchstick on Snowball's tiny durian-scented body board after a quick and impromptu lesson on how to use it from Harry, water foaming up and jumping everywhere as I tread it with hands and feet I hardly knew what to do with.

It was a funny thing alright. A funny sight, I'm sure. Snowball even snapped a few pics with her instant camera, and when I saw them afterward, even I couldn't help but laugh at myself.

But it was funny for me too. Matchstick wasn't even that far out. But the space between me and him — even as I closed it stroke by pitiful stroke, breath by measured breath — seemed so, so large.

So large that despite everything — my shortness of breath and my fear of capsizing and drowning and Matchstick's barking at me to stay away cause he was really gonna do it and nothing could stop him and all of it and everything, the memory of everything that had happened between us, all the spite and antagonism and bad blood — I had time to think.

Time to remember.

All on its own, a memory rose up, came to the surface — not popping like a bubble, but sticking and staying, persistent like seafoam.

#

It was a memory of the time Matchstick got sick. Sicker than a dog, and probably wishing he was one because there was no one to treat him — none of the local vets saw chupacabras — and nothing for him to do but ride it out. Nothing for me to do but be there with him through the stormy night.

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The water battered my face, stinging with salt and angry with spume.

#

For some reason, I was there with him. For some reason, I knew I had to be. He was lying there on his side on the carpet, whimpering, ribcage heaving, alternating between breathing heavy and hardly breathing at all.

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My whole body was on fire, every last muscle screaming at me to stop, to give up, to turn around and go back because it was all over anyway and I wasn't even halfway there.

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I sat there with him. It was just the two of us. I'd looked up medicines, remedies, anything I could find on how to help a sick chupacabra. There was nothing. All I could do was be there. All I had to give him was myself.

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I couldn't even see anything anymore. Couldn't even feel. My whole body hurt so much it was numb, washed over again and again by the freezing sea that had become my entire world, my entire vision and all my senses just blast after senseless blast of stinging white and blue.

#

You'd have needed a microscope to see my faith that night. My faith that Matchstick would make it. That he'd ever see the morning sun. I knew, deep down I knew, he was a goner. When his breathing grew even more labored and then, at last, stopped, I knew for sure that there was no hope.

#

I gasped my last. My body gave out. I couldn't make it. The distance between me and Matchstick was too great, especially for someone like me who had never bothered to learn how to swim. I pushed with all I had, one last futile fit of flailing against the inevitable. One last ditch effort against the incredible tide. This was as far as I went…

#

But then something crazy happened. Not the usual kind of crazy. Matchstick's eyes opened. Each one was like an endless well of black, so deep you'd never ever get to the bottom. He snorted once, then got up, half-limped over to where I was sitting cross legged on the floor, and collapsed into my lap. Just yesterday we had been at each other's necks. Just that morning he wouldn't even let me touch him. But there he was, asleep now, snoring, still fitfully, not peacefully, cause he wasn't out of it yet, wasn't even over the hill, but there he was anyway. With me. I just petted him and petted him, staying there like that with him for the whole night, thinking about a lot of different things. I don't even remember what. But I do remember that at the time, I didn't understand anything. Not a single thing. I didn't understand why Matchstick was there. Why I was there. Why we were together, now of all times. Why everything up till then had happened. Why this was happening. Why this. Why now. Why us. I just didn't get it. Didn't get any of it. I didn't understand. But now I think I do.

Now I think I do.

#

… I thought as I flopped off the side of my board and started to sink beneath the waves.

But by some miracle I found purchase on the smooth deck of a surfboard and the strength to pull myself up.

I blinked the water out of my eyes.

There was Matchstick.

This was his board.

I had made it.

I was so surprised at myself I just blinked at him.

He blinked back, poised to pour out the bottle and drop the match, but frozen stiff, like he was so shocked he couldn't move.

That meant he hadn't done it yet. We weren't on fire. I had made it in time. I wasn't too late.

And that meant that there was only one thing to do. I was a little embarrassed to do it, but I knew I had to. No, even more importantly: I knew I wanted to. So instead of getting too in my own head over it, I just imagined what Snowball would tell me if she was here: something way more embarrassing on her part than what I was about to say, probably, knowing how cringe she usually was, and that thought helped.

Yeah. It was a bad situation, or a series of them actually, between Matchstick and me. A sequence of less-than-ideal happenings that just so happened to land us both in the mess we were both now in. But it was just like Fence had said. Sometimes you just gotta take a bad situation and…

EMBRACE IT!

"Come here, Matchstick!"

I drew him into my arms. He either didn't have the chance to escape or he didn't want to. What you choose to believe is up to you, but I know what I believe. I knew then what I believed too. So I said it, loud and proud, to the one who mattered most:

"💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 WHO'S A GOOD BOY? YOU ARE! YES, YOU ARE! I WUV YOU, MATCHSTICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜"

And guess what?

I really, really meant it!!!!

To be concluded… next time!