“. . . O my love, where are they, where are they going

The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.

I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.”

~Excerpt from “Encounter,” by Czeslaw Milosz, transl. by Czeslaw Milosz and Lillian Valley 

I dreamed of our dog before Suzi and Charlie. Flash. He was old and sick and at the vets. It was a complicated dream about trying to get him help, but the vets were all charlatans, and one of them hid Flash on me in an exam room, and I had to search around the whole medical clinic to escape with him, and finally, I called his name and he barked, so I found him! and woke up and Charlie was barking in our room for his breakfast. Poor Flash. Lucky Charlie. I’m glad to see him, and he heals my sadness about Flash, so he gets me out of bed for his breakfast. And it’s early. And I was going to work on something before walking, but the orange sky is so seductive. I decide I want to be at the river under this light, and we go out. First thing, I get my boots soaked in the ice I step on and through. No big deal. It’s warmer. All the ice is in melt. But it’s frosted and lovely in the meadow. I’m grateful to have recovered so quickly from my fall to enjoy this morning splendor. The meadow is so quiet. Suzi turned back, it’s only me and Charlie and the berries and bare trees. The pictures come easily. I am charmed by the frosty milkweed pod, spilling a seed into a sunbeam. Flash loved to walk with me. Flash would pick up my sneakers and follow me around with one in his mouth until I would take him out. The kids were young, life was so chaotic and their schedules and needs came first. I found the time for walks with Flash, I made the time, but not ritually, as now. Flash was very good company on a walk too. But I felt the press of demands for my time then, as if I never had enough. Now, I have Charlie, and take my time crossing the meadow toward the east where the sun is rising on this new day.