The Journey Inward

We're both 56 this year,
Henry and I!
We are growing old together,
loyal companions to the end.

Henry came to me
when I needed him most.
It was after the divorce,
after I bought my "sanctuary,"
and filled it with intentionality,
settling into a new rhythm with my daughters.
Coming, going, here, there,
a way of living that nearly tore my heart out.
I saw them daily at their games or driving to travel practice,
but their heads were only on pillows
in the rooms next door for half the week.

Change.
Necessary, needed, wanted.
But also
hard, lonely, brutal.
Our two old dogs went back and forth with the girls,
so that I had EVERYONE or NO ONE,
and the quiet felt like the lid of the grand piano,
compressing the oxygen out of my straining lungs. 
Wandering from room to room,
looking for them,
while simultaneously finding me. 

I missed the girls so much,
and I missed my sweet old pups.
The teenagers weren't much into physical touch,
or allowing me to inhale their scent,
but Raven and Ginger always asked for it.
I couldn't get enough of them all,
feeling like every moment was precious, fleeting. 

Those were unsteady days,
swinging from guilt and sadness and fatigue,
to relief and freedom and peace,
depending on whether I thought of them or me. 
Fearful about my ability to support us,
and my daughter in college,
I worked several part time jobs,
in addition to full time teaching. 
Divorce was the right choice,
but it wasn't the easy one.

And so after 8 months,
I decided it was time for a dog
who just lived here.
The girls had always wanted a puppy,
so I said he was for them,
and he was,
but also he wasn't.
He was for me,
mine,
my little buddy,
always happy to see me,
always snuggling with me,
always by my side.
I could smother and need him
in a way I couldn’t mother. 

Henry and I found a rhythm, too,
just the two of us some days,
or with the two dogs and the two girls other days,
and sometimes all three girls and all three dogs.
Henry helped me heal,
helped me laugh and smile and find joy.
He reminded me to play, 
to rest,
to love,
to keep my heart open.

The two old pups have since passed,
and my three daughters are living their own lives,
but Henry remains,
and now his little brother, Spencer,
so that love and energy abound in this house.

Henry turned 8 on Saturday,
or 56 in human years, like me,
and I celebrated his life,
thanking him for enriching mine. 




Photos:  My beloved pups:  Ginger, Raven, Henry, Spencer.  by LA