Freedom and Love

crisp skin of snow cracked

soft inner belly below

welcomed our foot steps

grass threads through a heart

-shaped opening embroidered

window spring’s waking

You can see where her legs were shaved for her iv and blood draws :-(

Do you see the tiny heart? Love is everywhere!

Nefi's grave site in the woods.

Thank you everyone for your kind concern, prayers and comments. Ellie’s health, at least from the outside seems to be improving daily; no seizures in two weeks, her condition for now appears to be stable. I’ve said to some people recently the only changes this week have been diaper changes. But that's not really true, the sparkle is back in her eyes and a spring is returning to her steps, the closer as we approach the new season. If I hadn't witnessed her horrible seizures and her gradual recovery, (and wasn’t frequently changing diapers throughout the day, and Gordon taking night shift) it would not be obvious that anything was amiss. 

One lovely morning this past week Ellie and I went through the gate beyond the fence and into the woods. Typically I do not take her into the wilderness anymore, because ticks are drawn to her like magnets on a refrigerator, but I have not seen any yet and she had just been Frontlined. We have both been feeling pretty cagey in the house, so off we tromped (well I tromped in my big boots, she bounded) through the remainder of snow still blanketing most of the forest floor. Enjoying freedom, the scent of fresh air, she put her nose to the ground.  Although dogs do not "speak" they have a language all their own through movement, facial expressions, tail wags and well, you live with someone for ten years, you know what they are saying and she clearly wanted me to follow her. In a small area a short walk between brambles and over fallen logs, soft brown soil was visible; the snow had melted in a circular patch. She had led me to Nefi's grave. Her canine nose guided her to the place where her sister-friend’s body was resting beneath the earth. I shed some tears, amazed that while there was snow nearly everywhere else, this spot was bare, but for the heart-shaped stone we had left as a marker. I thought of Nefi’s gentle spirit, imagined the warmth of her little cat soul melting the ice so that new life could grow there in a few more weeks. I felt deep gratitude for Ellie, I wondered if perhaps she was giving me a teaching and offering comfort. While our bodies are temporary, love lasts as long as we remember someone. Who knows what cognitive thoughts a dog has, and how much is our own longing to create meaning out of the simple fact that the sense of smell is one of the most powerful tools animals, including humans share in awakening memory. After all, she stood with us in the cold, as we placed Nefi’s cardboard coffin in the ground, not much more than a month ago. And I suppose after her own close encounter on the edge of life recently, if she is indeed capable of such complex thoughts, she might want me to know that it will be ok. That she won’t really be gone when I can no longer see her brown eyes or pet her curly poodle hair, or feel her breath on my face when she stands next to the bed and pants to get my attention in the morning: “Wake up Mom, a new day has begun!” A part of her essence will cling to my heart, just like Nefi’s, and Lev’s, and Ginger’s and Clyde’s and Ebony’s and Tiger’s (these are the names of our family cats, beloved through the years), and all of the many people whom I still love but no longer walk the earth, too many names to mention.

And this awareness is freeing, like a walk in the woods after long days spent indoors, isn’t it? Not worrying that the “someone’s” we love will ever really be gone, as long as we are here to remember them through scents and sights, tastes and sounds, objects left behind and stories. This does not mean we will not grieve, and miss them, we will. And life will continue, for that’s what life does. Every bud on every tree and bush rising toward the blue sky knows this. 

Pesach, Passover is rapidly approaching. When I take down the aged metal soup pot that belonged to my Nana, my maternal grandmother to prepare a vegetarian version of her matzah ball soup, she’ll be present through the fragrance of carrots, parsnips and fresh dill wafting through our kitchen and memories restored to life.

A busy week ahead: 
eldest daughter home on spring break
a zillion appointments
preparing for guests (dear friends coming up from TN)
readying the house for Pesach

Thanks for stopping by, I'm sorry if in the midst of all that is happening I do not have a chance to visit your lovely blogs :-(

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