One of my loves! Sweet Sam or Mr. Sam I Am. I love how he sports his chest hair with pride. I might have to start calling him my little man!
There’s a little cabin 1 ½ miles from my place where I find solace. I pack books, my journal, a lot of water, some paperwork and a supper wrapped in tin foil. The anticipation is high as my boys watch me pack up. It always takes too long, and I get baleful looks and jittery dances in front of the door.
I hook the boys up to the bike and they slowly pull me across the highway. Once we are on the safety of the path, I let them loose and they immediately pee on everything within a 10’ radius and then take off to explore.
I bike and the boys race up ahead till we get to the aspen stand where the trees are magnificent and the undergrowth is minimal. I take off the harnesses and lock them and the bike up to a tree. We pick a random animal path that heads straight south into the bush.
I always feel strung out as we start off our mini journey, and every stumble and branch in my face feels like a punch in the gut. My soul is definitely not ok. I wonder why I bother because it’s so much work to come here, but the cabin getting close with each step, tugs at me. It’s a healing, soothing balm for my raw, wounded spirit.
The bush is wet and slosh through swampy areas, step over fallen trees, and slip on the slick mat of leaves. Time and time again I’m thankful that I moved to minimalist footwear; my ankles are strong and never give out.
My backpack is heavy with all the provisions for the few hours I will be away from the house. The load keeps me to a mere trudge, but I know I need the distractions to keep sane. For most of the time in the bush, I am not able to tolerate the silence and have either music or a podcast playing to fill the quiet void. Listening to dance music in my golden hued enchanted forest seems wrong, but I try to forgive myself.
After 10 minutes of cutting straight through the bush we make in onto the unkempt trail. It seems as wide as a highway, but it has holes big enough to swallow up Sweet Sam. We never know where we will come out along the path, and always get drawn to the west, when it’s eastward that we actually want to go. I wonder why this is.
It takes another 10 minutes of dodging the holes, and skirting the edges of deep standing water before we reach the cabin. As I walk into the clearing, it’s like I’ve taken a hit of some marvelous drug. For the next few hours I’m free. No hydro. No phone, no people. I’m not lazy, and I’m not trying to be a hard worker. I’m not a complicated mess that can’t find her place. The bone deep loneliness drops away, the loneliness that makes me want to kill myself. Out here, it doesn’t matter that I struggle with depression. The sickening feeling from being alive lifts off my chest and I can breathe.
I open the door and know that I have arrived home. I set about starting a fire. They boys snuffle around outside, cataloging every overturned leaf, and every new footprint. The fire catches and I go out to replenish the kindling that I used, but can’t help but stop to play with Mr. Sam I Am and Hephzibah.
Hephzibah, the staid, serious little man in our household let’s his hair down a bit and permits himself to chase Sam around the clearing. Sam runs and runs in tight circles, flitting here and there. I laugh and encourage his silliness. When I go back in, the fire has died, so I nuture it back to life. Soon the packet of food is sizzling and the cabin is warming up.
To be continued…
The Howling Penner Brothers. The boys howl when I leave the house and leave them home alone. It’s the saddest sound in the world. Now we’re working on howling on command. Every morning the boys have to work for their breakfast. Some days they put on a good show, and sometimes they just yip a bit, but it’s all fun.
How can I be so angry, hurt and lonely when there is all this beauty and so reasons to smile around me?
The boys are really keen on doing obedience training. Sam is a so smart and eager. Hepzee has always been harder to train because he wasn’t food motivated, but that’s changing. He now loves his food and is willing to work for it.
I’m embarrassed to say that we’ve never managed to leash train ourselves. We work at it every summer, then give up. I was amazed when I put the leashes on them yesterday, they both walked like pros.
I’m off to therapy in a few minutes. Going to see if I can dissipate some of this anger and hurt.