I woke at three AM, my hand reaching out during my sleep to pet Doctor, my beloved Finnish Spitz, and coming away empty. His absence alarmed my still foggy consciousness, and suddenly I was awake for the morning.
Doctor is already at my friend Zach's home, unable to accompany my son and I on our forty-five day adventure to the Camino de Santiago. He (the dog) is safe and sound and hopefully happy and content. He (my son) is not happy OR content.
My son, Sasha, almost into his sixteenth year, is not a happy camper this morning. To be honest, he isn't a happy camper this year. I write this on the bus to NYC enroute to a hectic day in the city to be followed by a flight to Barcelona. Sasha was awoken by me at four fifty five, the latest possible moment. I hoped that allowing him as much as sleep would be the merciful choice, but I'm not sure that any measures would have placated the fiery blood in a teenage boy. He has yet to eat, which I believe would drastically improve his mood, but is sleeping on the bus.
My spirits are high, and I'm sure that my cheery enthusiasm is just bellows for Sasha's strife.
The bus will drop us in the center of the city, a few blocks south of Grand Central, which is a few blocks south of Central Park, which has the destination of today's tourism tucked away on one flank of the park, the Hayden Planetarium. Sasha's choice. Perhaps it will improve his demeanor. I suspect there will be many petting-zoo-like events in our travels, for the special few what that means.
Safe travels, keep on hiking!
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