Bear — Time Slows Here

Some nights, the living room looks more like a pit stop than a place you live.

Boots by the door. A bag you never unpack because you’re just gonna fill it again tomorrow.

You come in late, shoulders tight, talking about everything that still needs doing before your eyes even adjust to the quiet.

And Bear watches it all.

Big black fur rug with eyes like dusk.

He doesn’t ask for much... just the warm spot on the couch, the brush of your hand across his ear when you finally sit still.

Melanie’s phone hums on the table like it’s got its own heartbeat.

The mortgage world wants more, always more.

I’ve got Home Ease pulling me out the door — roofs that leak, yards that swallow people whole, small emergencies that feel bigger at two in the morning.

And when I’m not doing that, I’m in a gym somewhere, trying to teach girls how to believe in themselves, how to play bigger than they think they can.

We’re good at holding everything together.

But somewhere along the way, you forget what it feels like to let it fall away.

So we circled this weekend on the calendar like it was the last lifeboat leaving the dock.

Here.

We stop here.

Three days to let the world figure itself out without our hands on every piece.

When we finally sink in, it’s Bear who meets us where we are.

His slow blink says what we won’t.

You can almost hear him, half grin, half yawn, giving up just enough dog truth to remind you how a pack’s supposed to feel.

 “Hey you two… look at you. Finally sittin’ still for once. About time, man. I gotta say… watchin’ you run around like you’re chasin’ your own tails all week? Exhaustin’. For me.

I like it better this way. You here, on the couch. Smell of that grill driftin’ through the window. Means somethin’ good’s comin’ my way if I play my cards right.

And the best part? The whole house goes quiet when you slow down. The little twerps stop zippin’ from room to room like squirrels on caffeine. Everybody breathes. You. Her. Me.

This is how it’s supposed to be, ya know? A pack. Nappin’ when we wanna nap. Eatin’ when we’re hungry. Makin’ just enough noise to let each other know we’re here.

I’ve seen you two when you’re movin’ so fast you forget you got a house that wants you in it. A couch that misses the shape of you. A dog that likes you best when you stay put.

So sink in. Let the day be what it is. Fire up the grill again later. Drop me a bite when you think I’m not lookin’.

Time slows here if you let it. And when it does, it feels like we’re doin’ it right.

Now, be good humans. Pass me a snack. Don’t get up too soon. I kinda like you like this.”

So we’re staying here for a bit.

Letting the couch take our weight.

Letting the house be what it is... quiet, warm, a little messy, good.

Letting the dogs remind us that sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing at all.

And yeah, we know ourselves.

We’ll still make that run to Minors.

We’ll fuss with the yard, chase down one more thing that could wait.

Old habits. Hard to break.

But when we come back in...  sweaty, dirty, tired.  Bear will be here.

Big head on our knee. Soft eyes like dusk.

Reminding us that the best part was never the doing.

It was this.

All of us here.

Just… here.