In which I experience a fantasy.

Saturday is bright and crisp and green. Spring is graduation. Graduation from the dark, cold struggle of winter. The graduation of tulips and daffodils and hyacinths from bulbs. Roses are a bit away in bloom but all of mine are there, waiting for me outside Carver Gym. I'm still in my robe, holding my hat down with one hand running to find them, paper scroll clutched in my hand. I spot them, run and leap into my older brother's awaiting hug. Then my dad's, then my Heather's, then Grandma's and so on and so forth. Mouse is there too, given that this is my delusion.

And then, the crowds part. Like I always wanted them to on days I was feeling crummy and just wanted to see a friendly face and there he is. Big, fresh bouqet of blooms in his arms, looking for me. Making the Dylan face and blinking at me.

All is forgiven without words being spoken. The flowers are crushed in the endless big hug. Mouse is wiggling with ecstasy at her people back together, finally. A week is after all, like 3 months in dog years. I cry, he tries.

We enter couples counseling. I get a job. The club is successful. He gets why I'm there.
I pay the rent. We get another dog. We move to Seattle. He finally, finally, finally finds what he's been looking for and realizes that he's had it all along.





And then I wake up. And realize that even my fantasy life involves therapy.