Resonant moments run deep within me of times at the lake growing up in West Texas.  Beyond the buoyancy that instills trust in letting go of control, I learned to appreciate the transitory nature of water in a dry land where it can never be taken for granted.  Sometimes that vast expanse of natural lake could be ankle deep in certain places, with little warning except the rudder of my slalom ski getting stuck in the mud.

I suppose more than anything, it was about family connecting in ways too wondrous for daily schedules and routines.  And then, it was about freedom to find one’s truest self in risking adventure beyond boundaries.  The lake had several finger-like tributaries for exploration and unexpected critters.  For me, it was all loads of fun!

So, I am curious now.  As I sit still long enough to allow my heart to go deep into the well that holds sacred the buried treasure of old memories, I must ask, “Why did the ‘puppy prints’ surface first?….or even at all?”  My Dad had decided to lay the tile floor himself at the lake house. He had traveled to Mexico to haul a horse trailer full of beautiful terra cotta tiles across the border and half the state of Texas.  That sort of escapade was more normal for him than normal people!

Ah, here is my treasured memory moment…We were both on our hands and knees, and sometimes flat on our bellies, laying this tile.  Everyone in town knew that the perfectionism it took to be an excellent doctor also played out in every task my Dad undertook.  As his oldest child, I understood it well.  I was his “right hand man”, and I loved every minute of helping him.  It was an honor and a challenge.  This specific memory takes place on the area of floor just outside the bathroom.  We had discovered that some of the tiles had puppy paw prints on them.  So my Dad carefully arranged them to make a trail leading into the bathroom.  We laughed together as we planned this serendipitous experience for future travelers.

 

So, out of a multitude of memories, why the “puppy prints”?  Was it lying on our bellies with our noses to the ground perfectly putting a path in place, our fingers touching oh so close?  Was it the liberating whimsical nature of my fun-loving father? Was it the image of his hands, so carefully guiding something that needs the security of being put correctly into place, making all the pieces come together, wholeheartedly completed?

Here is what I would conclude….Make sure you don’t miss a “puppy print” kind of moment!

nk