Rubber Band Ball

I have this notion, now, that if Murphy is the glue that holds us together, Sage is the rubber band ball.  She is the collection of rubber bands saved over time, kept on the counter or in a drawer.

Years and years ago, when my grandmother died, my uncle, father, and me went to her home to survey what we would need to clean.  She had a room, in the basement, where she kept everything.  There was not just one rubber band ball, but dozens.  There was probably every empty box of chocolate she'd ever been given, along with the waxed candy wrappers.  Tin foil, plastic bags, you name it.  All neatly organized.  It's when the impacts of the Great Depression really hit home.  My grandmother not only lived through the depression, she raised three children, took in numerous relatives, and managed a home, a farm, and helped with my grandfather's grocery store.  Nothing was garbage.

And that is Sage, channeling my beloved grandmother.  Saving everything, taking account where it all is, protecting family and friends.  She sits at watch at the top of the rise at the property, she is the first to bark at a strange noise at home, she is ready with an ear kiss to Murphy if she senses something is wrong.  And she always knows where every toy and scrap of chewie is hidden throughout the house.  

While hopefully Sage never has to live through an economic depression, she certainly helps with any depressed feelings I may have.  She is  a rubber band ball, always bouncing back!

Murphy's day and Sage still in recovery.