A Lesson From James

‘That’s why I don’t get attached to no animal,’ James said.

          We stood outside my shop in the light from the open door. James was on his way to the Lodge. His truck was still running. He had heard about my dog, knew how I cared for him and just wanted to stop in quick and check on me.

          ‘I had a dog I kindly loved like that when I was a kid,’ he said. ‘She had pups and run off and got herself killed. I ain’t got close to an animal since.’

          James looked through the darkness at his house in the bend above mine, perhaps to see if the porch light was on, which it was.  

          ‘Well, I better git,’ he said. ‘Just wanted to see how you were.’

          He climbed inside his truck.

          ‘Thanks,’ I said.

          I didn’t think any more of James’s condolences until the next day. I was doing some menial task, sanding, my mind wandering over all the little joys my dog, my friend, had brought me, the love we had shared, moments I would never have again but in memory. There were tears. Through them though, I thought of what James had said.

          Why would anyone, I asked myself, deprive themselves of this kind of happiness, this much love, just so they would never have to loose it?

          How silly. How sad. You loose everything eventually. There are so many creatures—animals, people—in the world, any one of which could bring new love and happiness into your life. If you moved from love, to love, to love, without a moment’s hesitation, you could, in theory, live a life free from sorrow, be in constant joy. Love could actually conquer all. Is this not Heaven?

          And I said, ‘Get up. Make more love.’