This afternoon I drove to pick up my friend Jessie and take her to her doctor. Jessie will be 84 in May and she doesn't get around very easily. She fell and broke her wrist a little over a week ago and was advised to have an orthopedic doctor review her x-rays.
On the way to her house on a busy street I noticed a dead dog against the curb of the median. I could see its face; it didn't appear to be older than a few months. My heart dropped to my feet. I looked around at the busy street, big rigs, vacant lots to my right, warehouses to my left. The poor dog likely was a stray, trying daily to survive. It didn't really have a chance crossing that street. I wish I could have shown him love. Instead, I cried as I said a little prayer for him.
The doctor reviewed Jessie's x-rays, removed the splint from her arm and began to move her wrist a bit. She cried out in pain. Her cry cut right through me. He placed a pillow on her lap, explained that he needed to put her arm in a full cast and promised to be gentle. I saw the pain and a growing fear in her eyes as we waited for him to return with the material for the cast. He seemed to take great care to not cause her any more pain. Slowly she began to relax. Her cast is light blue and she says that she likes the color.
On the way home, it got very dark and began to rain, just a bit. Jessie began to get hungry. We drove through Whataburger, her favorite fast food spot, and I got her a burger and fries. Such a small gesture but she was thrilled and it got her mind off her wrist which was feeling uncomfortable as the new cast's warmth cooled. She laughed at herself, for the way she was digging into those fries.
As I was driving home, the dark skies opened up and it absolutely poured. And then it suddenly stopped. The clouds moved and rays from the sun cut across the sky and bathed everything in gold. It was beautiful, like Jessie's laughter, like a prayer for a dog.