Zephyr had a rough night. He got lost–confused–in the night, wandered around. I kept finding him standing in odd places staring into the dark. I brought him back to his bed, again and again.
When I woke this morning, utterly haggard, he looked up at me, “Hey, lady; what’s up? Let’s eat. Let’s walk. Let’s move” as if he had found his way back with the morning.
This new turn in his mental health has left me shaken. My brain has gone back and grabbed the frightening, terrible, joyful, sorrowful last months of my Shadow’s (my last dog’s) life, as if to scare me now in preperation of the inevitable. And honestly, it’s not helping. I’m fighting against it, but memory is so powerful. Memories can suck the life out of the present. And I’m trying to fight for the present. THIS is it, babe. Right now and we’re still here. We’re not great, but we’re okay. We. Are. Okay. Repeat this every fucking five minutes if you have to.
I finally bundled up to walk. Walking is my salvation. When all else fails, I walk but it began raining and I nearly cried. I decided to walk anyway and as we walked the sky slowed, the clouds moved over, took a rest. I took off my hat, shook out my hair, let the cold air rush around my head. Wake up. Wake up. Come back. Be here now.
The sky, indecisive, kept changing color and shape. The rain would stop, a small patch of blue would show, disappear, a dark cloud would race by or hover, then move on. It was mirroring my mind. And what I needed to see was that even though the blue disappeared, the darkness moved on as well. This too shall pass.
Back home, I could not face the house. I grabbed my purse, a book, a coat, Zephyr, got in the car and drove downtown. I wanted to sit outside, defy the weather, sip coffee and just let it all rest outside the confines of walls.
I went to Magpie, where everyone was huddled indoors, but I camped outside, bundled up, with my book and sipped hot coffee and watched the clouds move in, move out. It was chilly, but the rain reprieved.
The waitress brought Zephyr a big water bowl and turned on a heat lamp. I got a warm oatmeal cookie and shared it with Zephyr. My brain got still. I was warm. I had coffee. Zephyr laid calmly. I looked at my book. The sun shone through, then vanished. People walked by, petted Zephyr. We talked about the weather. Everyone is stir crazy. I was not alone. And the rain stayed away for nearly 45 minutes. Just as we left it started to pour.