And a pair of new goat friends.
I escorted Mom back to work, to say hi to her boss, Liz. And Liz knows of my love of all things goat. She was on the phone when we arrived in back, but cupping her hand on the receiver, offered me the cross streets for a house in her neighborhood that has goats in the backyard that people like to feed with apples as they pass by. My eyes grew in size, lit up like the sun outside. Part woman, part child on a treasure hunt, I gratefully accepted the slip of paper with the clue and promised to check them out.
The neighborhood was on my route home, slightly off my well-worn path. I found the house at the corner of 95th and 6th, the one with the sagging shack up against the wall, in a ring of dirt and wire fence and overgrown grass. Two goats, a boy and girl, trotted up to greet me. I had no apples, just fingers. They nibbled, I scratched chins, behind ears, around horns, fingertips turning charcoal. The boy, I dubbed him Nibbles, lost interest and turned to eat a tree, stretched out on back legs, reaching with his neck and tongue to strip it of bark. The girl remained, and I called her Nanny, content to let me stroke her head through the fence. I stood up reluctant, said goodbye, promised to return. My back to them, I heard a woeful "Naaaaaaa" as I walked away, and I felt a surge of pleasure. Nanny watched me go.
These little things, they are training my eyes to see. All throughout the day, gifts abound, if I am I searching, if my hands are open. I give thanks, and my heart fills.