Water Smooths Rough Edges

My aunt who lives in Moscow, Idaho came to visit over Thanksgiving. She also brought her dog, Gus, a husky-yellow lab mix who fills out with this incredibly, gushy, soft, thick coat come winter. His eyes are soulful and soft. He moves slow and sometimes it feels like he can read what I am feeling. I often got the impression he was looking at me and his eyes just said, "You're missing something, aren't you?" Gus stayed home on Thanksgiving and Nancy came over to the school, saw the campus, and ate dinner with all the kids. Afterwards, on our way home we stopped in Clarkfork to visit my friends Erik and Kendra and made room for a second round of pie. I continued my favorite Thanksgiving tradition and we all played Cranium (Speaking of, I hope the Pogacich family Thanksgiving did not let that slide this year with my absence. I would be very disappointed!)

The next day we had a movie marathon. It felt great to slow down, but it was hard at times. I kept looking for, aching, and missing Buck. He would have loved the walk we went on. It was his favorite place to go. I bet he even would have gone swimming in the ridiculously cold water. I do not know how many times I imagined him running around the corner, his shaggy hair flying flat around his face and that sappy grin he always seemed to have. As I have mentioned previously the water level has dropped in the lake, and it was mesmerizing for me to see a different landscape of rocks and driftwood laid out before me. On the way back, I started walking along the water's edge, punching through the thin puddles of ice in the sand with the tip of my red boots. I began to notice all the driftwood collected on the sand. I could not stop looking at it. There were pieces of all shapes and sizes; long sticks, little knobby knots of wood, larger, thicker logs, teeny little pieces - but all of it was incredibly smooth. Something about it just moved me. It seemed too simple; water smooths rough edges.

I thought of Buck, I thought of myself, I thought of the water, and I thought of my dad. I have known for a couple of years now that being on, or just being near water rejuvenates me. I know I got that from my dad. He speaks of moments where he needs "time on the water" to center himself when he finds himself getting short with people, or just feeling in a funk. For me, water is soothing, and it also smooths out my rough edges. I relax, I breathe and I feel myself take on the quality of the water. Waves give me energy and a light heart, whereas flat, calm water turns me inward and contemplative. I have this sense that Buck needed water, too. As a stray, and with his flamboyant personality there were definitely some rough edges that needed smoothing with him. He loved his walks around town, but when we would drive towards the lake he would whine from anticipation. Water meant something to him. On our first playdate we went to a beach, and as I walked into the water to show him it was safe, he tucked himself right behind me and would only go as far as I would go. Once I swam, and let my feet leave the bottom, he swam, and then there was no looking back.

As I am writing, I am aware that I am not sure if I have a point to this post. I keep going back to all that smooth, but strong driftwood. It seems to be so much more than just sticks and hunks of wood. I feel close to Buck when I think of it. In this strange way he is one of those pieces, and I know I am, too. As I led him into the water, without hesitation on our first day together, to my place of peace and love, I let him into my world. I let him into my heart. That is something I have not done in years. Maybe Buck and I both needed to soften up a little, to feel a little love, but maybe it is not one another we were meant to love. Maybe we were not meant to drift to the same shore together.