So, the first thing I should tell you is that I am quite buzzed. Not drunk. But definitely buzzed from three glasses of white wine drunk by the side of the pond with my lovely neighbors who have been such incredible support through these past weeks, most especially these past five days. (Must they think I am an unending source of drama that has descended upon their tranquil Eden? A question for another night, I expect.)
The kids had brought by their watercolor paintings the day before of "Henry coming Home." And then, today, they had more-- "Henry floating on a raft in the pond," etc. Of course they would have done the same for Ollie had they known him-- but seeing as he has spent no time here-- they don't know him, yet.
And anyway, I did preface all this with the simple fact that I am quite buzzed, yes?
Oh good-- because do not for a moment expect any kind of coherence here. Please.
Can we talk about the PRAYERS? The incredible miracle of all of YOU<---! honestly.
People-- never doubt your power. Do not. You have serious juju-- I am not kidding.
So this morning dawns, impossibly sweet and beautiful. The day was just so lovely I couldn't come inside.
I took my camera out into the cluster of sunflowers and shot some photographs of them with the mountain we believed Henry and Ollie had disappeared into behind them. Not sure what I was going for-- but I think this morning it was all about a feeling. A feeling of lightness and kindness and truth, possibility and magic.
Oh. I am too far gone to do any kind of thoughtful exploration of this day.
We got a call that the boys had been seen on a road about half way between where I live and Soliden. I drove there-- posting flyers left, right and central. The sighting had been Tuesday about 3pm ish. So I felt SO CERTAIN they were headed to Soliden and seeing as it was now Thursday-- I so certain I would drive up and find them sitting on the porch.
I don't know who was more disappointed, me or Daisy.
We got home from our driveabout-- can I just pause here to say Miss I-Know-Nothing-About-Geography is now exceedingly well acquainted with every fuh-REAKING back road and main thoroughfare between me and Mt. Olympus-- I'm just saying. (And, I am not so sure that if Henry and Ollie had been "delivered" into a few of those backyards . . they wouldn't have been quickly shot and fed to the bear dogs. Not that I didn't meet loads of lovely people on my travels-- oh, I surely did-- but some of those back roads! Better not to know what goes on there, is all I'm saying).
Home about 4:30ish. Am fatigued. Daisy and I both crash-- no energy for a walk. I can feel the breath of hope that had bubbled up in the morning, give way to yet another anguished night of no Henry, no Ollie.
As the clock moved toward 5, I planned to give Dave a call as he reached home. Just touch base. Of course he would call me if they were there-- but I no longer believed they would be so I thought just to call him to be there as he entered an empty house.
A little after 5 there was a scramble at my doorstep and I heard some knocking. When I went to the door, Acre-- my 7-year old neighbor who had done four paintings for Henry, was standing there in his wet swimsuit, a pair of swim goggles bobbing around his neck. He had a HUGE grin on his face.
Behind him was HENRY and then, OLLIE. Coming. Up. The. Stairs. Into my Apartment.
Just like that.
In they walked, smiling, wagging-- exhausted and skinnier than possible. But HOME.
Daisy and I fell all over them and I had so much difficulty in accepting the simplicity of their return. The ease of their return. After all the work, the struggle, the phone calls, the crying jags, the long nights--- here they were-- hungry, tired, home.
I called Dave. I fed them. I posted to you all. And then, I grabbed two bottles of wine and brought all three dogs up to the pond where together with my kind neighbors we celebrated their return.
Of course I went swimming-- how else would I clear my head, empty my body of the leftover emotions as I tried to reconcile this moment?
(Can you read what the paper says?)
Henry and Ollie were too tired to lie in the sun so they sat on the porch (Henry) and under the porch (Ollie) while we drank and went over every detail of the last four days-- reveling and marveling in miracles.
It has been the most incredible season of dragonflies and tonight was no exception. Hundreds of them swooped about us in the rich golden light, their long, lean bodies wrapped tight, a cigarillo of iridescent blue.
And then, evening began to wane. We packed up and I brought my brood home and got them cozy and comfortable. Took a hot shower. Put on jammies. Toasted an English muffin and ate it here by the computer.
Why the fuss? Why the bother? Two dogs--- two dogs. In the scheme of things, what matter?
But who is to say what we love. Who we love. It's wherever we put our love. It's the energy of love. Love is the only truth in this made-up world of ours. It is real. And we know it best by those people, pets, things, moments, books, music, sounds, colors and scents we give our love. They hold it for us. They reflect it back to us.
And, have I ever told you?
Henry smells like cinnamon.
Even after four days of a mountain walkabout.
Did I mention-- YOU<--! You with the prayers. You with the faith. You with the arms holding me up. You with the emails keeping me connected to the love. YOU.
I am so grateful. Thank you so much.