I heard a helicopter fly over late last night. And the night before. I don’t know why or where it’s going, but it makes me think about the people in Ukraine, and what they’re hearing fly over, or roll by outside their windows. And I wonder how they are sleeping while hiding in an abandoned subway or in an old bomb shelter. And I think about those trying to leave the country, walking miles, standing for hours, the men being turned back to fight, women and children trying to find a safe place to rest. My heart breaks for them all.

Last week I dog sat for a neighbor who was out of town for a couple days. The dog’s favorite indoor game was to retrieve his tennis ball. So I’d roll it under the ottoman fast enough that it would appear on the other side. He figured it out pretty quick, either waiting for it over there, or trying to keep me from rolling it past him in the first place. As he was pouncing on my hand, moving so quickly that it was almost impossible to get it past his big feet and long tongue, I had a memory flash. We used to play “Sheltie in the middle,” with one of us sitting on the floor on one side of the room, and one of us on the floor at the other side. We’d roll her tennis ball back and forth and Katie would try to get it. She usually did. Then she’d prance to one or the other of us and give us the ball to play again. I had forgotten she used to play like that. My heart cracked just a little.

Unrelated heartbreak. It’s everywhere.