Came home to find all my perishables perished. The big bag-up and toss down was satisfying. The chute seemed hungry. The plump bags like tasty morsels, down the hatch, one by one.

You know how dogs stare so deeply at their object of desire, that morsel of whatever you’re eating, and you know how when you give them a crumble, they devour it so ecstatically, like it’s the ultimate joy in their life–and it probably is, though maybe next to playing around in the woods–but regardless, you can see, hear and just feel the enormity of their joy. It fills the room. It’s whatever heaven we can imagine.

As a kid, I was cognizant of the power I had to create that state of joy in that other being, and it was a strange feeling. It made me feel like a kind of god. The way a dog sits there, so intensely, every second transmitting the universal prayer, and all power rests with you– the power over The Absolute Joy.

So, sometimes I’d give a morsel, and The Absolute Joy would happen.

It was always a flash. An inhaled, instantaneous, lightning strike of a moment.  It was a GULP! Gone. Seriously gone. Did it even happen? Did she even realize it happened? Is it possible that was so reactive that she didn’t even know the Yearning Prayer was answered?

There were times when I’d end up powerless to watch. I’d end up absolutely showering her, making something she knew was impossible, possible. I’d give a second piece, then a third, and just when she’d be ready to think it was over, I’d start tossing bigger pieces, pieces of a size she’d never had someone give her before, and I’d make it just the beginning, and sometimes there was no end, where she could experience the joy for longer than a gulp, longer than a flash, and the joy was infinite, and I was a loving god, of plenty.

And suddenly she was the one being worshipped.

And it all was gulped.