Finding myself

“Are you the one with the frisbee dog?” She asked.

I’d never been referred to as that one before – but I answered ‘yes’.

The frisbee dog and I have become something of a sidewalk sensation in our new neighborhood – people point and smile at the clueless canine and he pads along, frisbee dangling from his mouth like he’s just a run of the mill big brown dog.

I’ve got to admit he’s pretty cute but the fact he has become my defining feature is a little disconcerting.

I spent my youth being someone’s daughter.  I got to be someone’s girlfriend for an hour and half before the guy popped the question and I became someone’s fiancé.   I was someone’s wife for forty years and during those years became three someone’s mother.  In recent years I’ve become three someone’s grandmother and three someone’s mother-in-law.

And now I’m the one with the frisbee dog.

This gives me pause, I think even I have forgotten that I’m actually a someone too.  I’ve been known by association for so long it’s possible I might have a tough time figuring out how I fit into the world on my own. Just me.  Just Elva.

Without a reference point who the hell am I?  This is all together too much to think about on a rainy Sunday afternoon – too philosophical.  I actually have a pretty good handle on who I am right now.

I’m the one with the frisbee dog.