Good morning and happy 4th of July! Just as soon as I finish this wonderful cup of caffeine, I am throwing some shorts and t-shirts in a bag, some groceries in the cooler, and heading to the cabin for the long weekend. I can't wait to spend the day there, but mostly its the dusks and dawns that thrill me, the quiet moments of fading light at the ending day and the equally quiet moments when the morning light stretches across the river and touches the house. I love that light. I need that light. And I'm going to get a good dose of it this weekend.
It's sad for me though that I am not travelling with my Cheyenne. This is the first time in over ten years. Since she came into my life, I have not been to the cabin one time without her by my side. Not once. She is all over that place and I am so happy that I had a place like that for her, for her to be nothing more than what she was, a dog. I am so happy for the wide open spaces and the water's edge, for the big sky and thick woods across from our house, for all the spots that she loved to stick her nose in and explore. After so much time, she is part of the cabin itself. She is the porch and the grass, the blue chairs in the living room, the rug under the kitchen table. Her dog bowl is sitting on top of the refrigerator.
And so it is that I will be scattering some of her ashes there this weekend. In the morning light, the light she and I would take our walks through, along the path we shared together. Cup of coffee in my hand, my brown friend beside me, that strange and wonderful morning mist hanging in low clouds around us. My sweet girl is going home.