Grateful it was but a dream when I woke again this morning, after witnessing a horrific community tragedy. As we watched from Main Street shops, I spied an avalanche on the nearby mountains. “Avalanche!” I cried and others turned to look. I watched aghast as almost every chute on the whole mountain range released its built up snow in short order, and in the midst of it, saw dozens of skiers trying to ride out the first and biggest avalanche, watched some get tossed and buried (amazed even then by the keenness of my vision). The aftermath was terrible, twenty-five lost on the mountain, triage for dozens more, and all the while the mountains moving closer.
I wandered the stairs, rooms, halls of a sudden building where survivors gathered, emergency response efforts underway, people in tight conversations. I couldn’t find a place to fit in or a way to help. Even worse, I couldn’t find where I had parked my car! so I couldn’t get home to Stellar, to safety. Startled awake for the second time at 7:30, I was grateful to let my body settle into quiet contemplation of a more accurate perception of my world.
After meditating, Stellar and I greeted another gorgeous fall day. We enjoyed several short walks, and he rested comfortably on his outside beds all day, while I swept and winterized the patio and settled the houseplants in their new winter spots in the sunroom. I’m grateful for the mild weather: any time he’s outside is time he’s not peeing inside. Except for incontinence, now, he’s so much happier than he was a few weeks ago. Poor guy, anytime he lies down he leaks. I do at least one load of his laundry and throw away pounds of soaked pee-pads daily. I’m grateful for pee-pads, and for patience, and for knowing that this trial, too, is impermanent. One day it will be over.