I finally lay down in the middle of the snowy river bed, just lay there and stopped

I finally lay down in the middle of the snowy river bed, just lay there and stopped worrying about Laska, stopped, worrying about not having my lover any more, stopped worrying about feeling alone…

And just felt the cold wet seep in and breathed deeply into my belly, opened my eyes and a plane was flying over me in the same direction as the river would flow and I thought, “that must be a good sign. I can let go. Breathe in grief… exhale letting go, breathe in grief, exhale letting go… I am at home with my grief, I am at home with being alone…” 

(I have decided to diagnose my self with ptsd trauma about letting go of the ones I love. It sends me spiraling when it seems it could be very simple like an exhale)

It lasted maybe eight minuets. I sat up to look for Laska, can’t completely let go of worrying about loosing her (too).

And immediately I was in love… there she was, not too far away, pulling a stick out of a bush and making it her own.

It felt like the first time she was there for me and the first time I have seen her interested in a stick, (see it is a good thing letting your baby be alone for awhile). Laska was saying, “come on mama come play, look what I found!”

I crouched and stalked over to her to let her know, “time to play”.

And we played.

It was not just a little stick, but something substantial, I felt proud of her, “she is like me; she finds treasures and wants to bring them home.” So I started to teach her about the bringing it home part because it was a treasure. I discovered it was a fairly good walking stick, kind-of like a sturdy witches broom, hmm curious, (that Ditch witch is making me a witches staff.)

I threw it for her in the direction of home and she would run after it excited, pick it up and do her chest and tail high proud trot, and then without any concern drop it and chase after another smell.

We got home and I started cooking my dinner and as it has been lately any time I’m cooking Laska sulks away to hide in fear from the kitchen sounds and I am there cooking again alone.

Loneliness seeps in, It was there at Thanksgiving with my family, It was there years ago when I was with my then “life partner” and It is here now. Loneliness should be the worst evil, it destroys anything and everything, I can’t seem to see when love is present because He is always hungry for More and never satisfied with the subtle gifts of what people (and pets) are capable of, with who they are and where they have been and the pain they have experienced and the fear they carry, my Lord, any piece of love in this world should be a treasure, right?!

And yet, the psychobabble shit tells me I should hold affirmation of some ideal love with no baggage…. This makes my chest heave with grief for our humanity… if I do that who will love the wounded ones… why do I love the wounded ones… father, mother… because we are all wounded and have come from that, we are all part of that, I am that, 

I cant let go… 

I carry this stick into this new year, this stick that looks a bit like a witches broom and my dog likes chewing on it.