I would take you

My favorite song for two-and-a-half years was Overlee by The Rentals. So much so, in fact, that when I picked up a stray dog off the street and forced my parents to adopt, yet, another animal, I named her Overlee. She spent her last years in the comfort of our busy, suburban household keeping her stay even after I left.

The odd thing about old, worn out, once-abused Overlee was that she drowned--much like the last line of the song, "And we could swim and swim until we drowned."

And when I last saw my parents, my new age mother slyly informed me in my father's very presence that he had had a dream about Overlee thereby subtly pressuring him to participate in the Mystical Life. Being the obligated, somewhat doting daughter, that I am, I asked what it was about. He said, "Nothing." Then, my Vietnam War Veteran father looked out the car window and said this about the small, white poodle:
She just came out of a low mist in the backyard with her little three-legged gait like she was coming to the backdoor to be let in. I, standing right inside the door looking out over the yard, moved to open it.  When I did, she disappeared.


At this moment I think, somehow, these three sentiments epitomize my life thus far.