A walk with my sister's dog

Late summer hung heavy in the air, smelling of dry grass and ground. A strong, steady breeze blew up river, ruffling Posie's fur as she snuffled along our path. We reached the overlook, both turning our faces into the wind, both drawing great, deep breaths through our noses, taking in summer like we could store it up to last through winter. Posie's nose turned to investigate a recently sloughed snake skin, cautiously approaching the "business" end. Once her curiosity was satisfied, we moved on into the welcome shade and began following a gravel path toward the formal gardens. We were tempted back into the sun by the sound of water gurgling from a fountain, but soon turned back to the cool path as it plunged into the woods, becoming more of a deer track than a cultivated walkway. We walked quietly, both listening to the sounds of the woods - birds, squirrels and chipmunks all rustling and chittering. Our track emerged from the woods, rejoining the road to home. We each took one last deep breath before going there, savoring summer and the joy of walking side by side.

Goodbye?

What a strange feeling, traveling finally to say goodbye. Could it really be the last time I see my mother? After so many years of fighting back her ravaging illness, an ending does not seem possible. Maybe this be like so many other urgent trips taken, only to learn that her vague future will continue on a painfully slow downward spiral.

Something I can't put my finger on says that this is different. Maybe it was the difference in my sister's voice as she described Mom's sudden, rapid aging, in her message meant to prepare me for what I would see. Maybe it is something else that can't be seen or measured, just the dissipating connection of two people whose lives have been intertwined for so long. It is like I can feel my mother' essence ebbing from thousands of miles away. There is no panic or fear in me, just that I need to be with her as soon as I can. Thinking of what to do when I get there is what brings my worry. Will she be the mother or the child? Strong and peaceful or frightened and in need of comfort? This question is the same I have always had so, in that sense, this trip is no different.

I have decided that I will be what she needs me to be. I can do that for her. I realize, as I write this, what life with Mom gave me - the ability to find peace while in the midst of pain and turmoil. That is her gift to me and I will use it, until she and I meet again.

Life cycle

Enter vibrantly
Move through days persistently
At the end, relent

Sudoku

Something for focus
Something that I can get right
Nine boxes bring peace