Post Number Forty-One

A PARTRIDGE IN THE SNOW

Copper loves the snow, especially the cold, light powder that has been falling of late at our cottage on Lake Louise.  On a walk along the trail, in the still frigid afternoon, she plows with canine excitement pushing the snow to the side with her chest and bounding up the hill beside the trail.  From time to time she stops and sticks her head completely beneath a drift.  Then she comes up for air and runs full speed back to our side hoping for a treat of praise.  She is pure joy.  She is the moment. She is without fear for tomorrow and without regret for yesterday.

I have come to be with Terry at our beloved home.  Together we contemplate the results of the latest disappointing scan.  More lesions have been found.  Hope and courage have been damaged. She and I are both beginning to think of possibilities we once thought distant.  Neither she nor I speak of the dread that has begun to grow within our hearts.  For the moment Terry feels well. Her work at the camp is well received and appreciated.  There is nothing to do but keep the appointment for the next chemotherapy treatment.  In the meantime we try to find ways to be gentle with one another and appreciative of one another.  

The winter woods are soft with snow.  We welcome the cold.  There is a knowing silence between us and within the forest.  Copper runs up the hillside to our left and goes on point.  Her eyes fix on the white.  A partridge explodes from hiding leaving a contrail of snowy powder as she maneuvers between the trees.  A partridge, or perhaps an explosion of the Holy Spirit into the desolation of the moment.  Who is to say?