A Writer in the Village VIII

I woke early so I could take Cleo for a walk before I made my way to the airport.  We turned right off Kennedy and started towards Journal Square...or as far as she would walk before she insisted we turn around and head home.   My marathon training has not been going as well as I had hoped, I've had so many injuries and the humidity here makes me sick; perhaps when I get home I can resume and kick it into high gear.

I had to still run into the city and meet with my coach for an hour before I left for a few weeks.  I felt good in my synopsis and understand that as I write chapters it can change and evolve as I tell my story...but for now it gives me a direction to follow.  I walked Cleo over to a park that gives a beautiful view of Manhattan and walked along the wall for a while.  We sat on a bench and I pointed out all the buildings and areas of the city and like a perfect student she looked at the city then looked at me and licked my face.  I could feel the butterflies start to flutter with excitement around my writing and then I will be dining with my two children and Karen this evening...assuming my flight leaves on time.

We continued down the path and we were about four miles in when I could feel Cleo falling behind,  I started to turn back because I know I cannot carry her and she has no more gas in the tank.  When I opened the door she looked up the twenty plus stairs and then back at me...I scooped her up and climbed the stairs...