Despite her nose ring and the tattoo covering his entire forearm, they have a very traditional tone.
Even the baby with his pacifier wearing a T-shirt that said…Ooh Baby Baby, across its tiny front could have worked for Gerbers.
When my essay light blinked on I didn’t hesitate.
“Hi, good morning,” I said, sidling up. “Been watching your dog…he’s so, so happy. Is he a rescue by any chance?”
“Yeah, the guy beamed. “His name’s Trucker, we got him from the pound.”
You can always spot a rescue, and it has nothing to do with Trucker being a pit either. They are just happier dogs knowing, unlike many of their brethren, they got another chance. No wonder he was running after squirrels he didn’t quite catch, and looking over his shoulder to make sure his family was in view. You mean the world to an animal who finally has a home.
This couple made me smile…mom in her hoodie and denim cutoffs, dad’s cropped army pants with a tight ginny-T both wearing Converse sneaks.
Every few steps he’d peek at the baby making sure his needs were met with an occasional hand on his woman’s shoulder. My kind of guy protecting the nest at all times, but quietly…without fuss or muss.
My heart yearned a bit watching them. How simple and great to just be part of a loving unit…to wake up early starting the day at nature’s table with your whole life ahead of you.
“You’re the all American family,” I said before commencing my run (more of a walk since I’m still a little wobbly).
“Ya think?” the guy said.
“Yup, I do. You’re conventional, with a twist.”
They both grinned and wished me a good day.
When they headed toward the boat pond they turned and waved.
Who said New York wasn’t friendly…it’s just like Iowa, at least this morning it was.