Rope

We are approaching the six month mark. It has been six months since Tibe or Emma have been able to run around freely in their own back yard. There is no fence in our sweet Michigan hideaway so every outdoor adventure involves a collar and leash. Emma tires of it. She longs for the day when she can sit outside alone in the sun and nap.  Fortunately we have had few sunny days so the denial of this pleasure is less acute.

Tibe has adapted to his leashed walking life. I feel the loss for him, however. He is young, energetic. I wish he could run around a yard every day, play catch with a plushy, run crazy and free. In this absence, he has rope and long lead. Most days, at the end of our park walk, I put him on the then foot long lead. He hops into the back seat of the car, anticipating what is to come and sits while I attach the leash and ensure it is not tangled, then he jumps out and circles around a bit. His excitement most evident in his butt which wiggles in the opposite way his tail waggles. Most days, he then sits and waits for me to take out rope.

I should note here, I am a bad thrower. I have never been good at sending objects into the air with my hands. And flying objects coming at me cause me to run away. Bad memories of gym classes. Basketballs, volley balls, any ball hurling toward me and I quickly move away. Just as I have no interest in catching, grasping, or holding a ball, I barely can throw. Tibe does not realize this, of course. To him, I am a champion thrower. Though back in Maryland, we lost more than a handful of soft toys that I would throw for him to the roof. Yes, the house was behind me. No, I do not know how I ended up throwing that lamb and duck and octopus up there. Yes, I was aiming to throw them away from the house. Tibe doesn’t care about any of this. He is just excited when sitting next to the Honda, I finally take out the rope and throw it about fifteen feet away.

We play with that rope for five minutes. He is exhausted after a few pitches, some running and fetching, then some focused tugging. It takes little for my boy to be happy and sated. He doesn’t want much: the walk, the rope, my affection.

Every time we play with the rope, it is the first throw that mesmerizes me. I reach into the back seat to pull out the rope, which is now gray and muddy and covered with slobber. Tibe is sitting and excited. I pitch the rope into the air and he jumps up. All four paws off the ground. Sometimes his small body spins all the way around in a circle. He is free for a moment, just watching that rope, dancing in the air. In that moment, when I watch him fly off the ground, I think, always I think, we all might fly in the air with the rope playing our way toward a majestic free future.

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