J and I are on our way home from a great day in New York, seeing the Radio City Christmas Spectacular with friends and enjoying a delicious Italian lunch. (Yes, even Jewish girls can appreciate a Christmas show, especially when it involves the high-kicking Rockettes, a gaggle of Santas and snowflake drones floating around the theater.)
It wasn’t always clear the day would end so well. Yesterday, I told J we were going to New York today and tried to determine out loud when we would need to wake up to get ready, walk the dog and drive to the train station. Big mistake because, unbeknownst to me, this made J anxious.
I was doing my usual million and one errands – paying bills on the third floor, doing laundry on the first floor. At 9:45 pm, I thought J was in the bedroom on the second floor when I heard the front door slam. Down the stairs I flew. J and the dog were gone. In the rain. I tried J’s cell phone and heard it ring in the house.
We live in a nice but very urban area where dangers lurk in the dark of night. Fortunately, our dog is a rescue pit bull who looks fierce. (Appearances can be deceiving. He is actually very sweet.)
I did ask J in exasperation what she was doing and where she thought she was going. She couldn’t communicate a coherent response. I firmly believe she thought we were leaving for New York and she had to walk the dog.
Next time we have to go somewhere, I won’t tell her until the morning of. It will be easier on my heart.