Dear Wanderlust Crew,
Thank you for being part of this traveling community. I’m taking a short break, on the road myself. I think there’s a couple of weeks scheduled but if a gap happens, bear with me. I’ve taken Harold and Stevie with me in the van. Rosie is home, buried in our yard, overlooking the sunset. The neighbor’s dogs killed her on Friday night. I can’t be there right now. I just can’t. I had to leave. My happy place, my safe space, is behind the wheel. In the mountains. Or on the coast. I can’t believe she’s dead, my little mischief maker. Rosie.
18 months ago, Harold was diagnosed with cancerous tumors, two taken out of his mouth. I began to think that it’d be just me and Rosie by now. That he’d be gone. That Stevie, the little cat/tiger who travels with us, wouldn’t have made it either. I thought that Rosie and I would grow old together, her in the passenger seat, head out the window, ears flapping, as we explored.
Harold is healthy. Stevie is too.
I had to leave, I’m not sure for how long. Perhaps only a couple of weeks. But when I go back, I have to face my neighbor, listen to his barking dogs, knowing that I’m not safe in my own home. So where am I safe? On the road. Traveling. It’s always been the place where I relax. Driving.
I’ll be back. I’ll post your stories. Maybe I’ll have some of my own to share. In the meantime, here in Colorado, yesterday there were moments of great beauty in my grief. Two bucks came up within fifty feet of my camp. A flock of Canadian Geese flew down to the lake beside us. Two bald eagles, huge white heads and broad wings circled the ponderosas. I toasted them all and missed my Rosie.