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Taken for Granted
In a glossy, black picture frame sits Millie.
The Golden Retriever.
The fur on her face and ears is a light shade of brown,
moistened with water.
Most likely from her treasured stream
where she swims and fetches sticks.
Her black eyes sparkle with delight.
Her rosy pink tongue flops out of her mouth.
Her velvet ears are perked up with excitement.
I peer at the picture and grin.
Even though I know that the picture is still
I see it moving.
I am standing on the pebbly shore of the river.
A water-logged stick
between my fingers.
I observe Millie,
her paws already in the water.
She is staring at the stick earnestly.
She wants me to throw it.
I aim toward the center of the rolling river.
The stick is launched into the stream.
It slaps the surface of the clear water,
begins surging down the stream.
Millie bounds into the water,
Droplets of glistening water spring up behind her.
She paddles frantically toward the stick
her head poking just above the surface of the stream
She proudly snatches the stick from the water
clutching it with severe dedication.
I don’t want to let this memory go.
So many small memories in life are taken for granted.
But this one won’t be.