It's midnight. I am sitting on my porch smoking one cigarillo after another. I remark how bad of a time it was for Maggie to learn to use her dog door. She barks incessantly outside. I finally get her inside with one of her favorite dog treats and continue my smoking session.
I've had a rough few days. Days in which my mental illness has really kicked my butt. It is times such as these that I want to give up -- fold my cards so to speak. I really wish I could go to bed for a few days at a time until I get to feeling better.
Soon, Rosa steps outside and I immediately feel better. This is why I keep carrying on.
"You coming to bed soon?" she asks.
"Let me smoke a little more," I reply.
"I worry about you when you get like this," she says as she sits down in the chair next to me.
"Just having you around make a huge difference," I tell her.
I watch as she disappears beyond my porch door headed for the bed. Just the thought of her curling up in the covers makes me sleepy. Knowing that someone in my real life truly cars makes all the difference in the world. I am blessed. It is time for bed for me.