Nostalgia

Praise God for the beauty of mountains; for biting October air that cleanses and freshens like mental Listerine; for Oak trees, adorned with orchids, befriending giant celery plants; for hot coffee sipped next to the camaraderie of a wood stove; for clouds that breathe moisture on the face and wrap slimy arms one’s unsuspecting bones; for playing cards, battered and frayed, that spur the irrepressible laughter of friends who love life too much.

It has been a beautiful weekend. Something about chilly mountain air and the obscurity of mist ushers in memories of autumns past and memories that will never again be. Joy seasoned with the sweetest of sorrows.

In a twist of irony, this much-needed escape to the mountains concluded on a piercing note. A routine post-journey email check revealed the loss of something that I have loved deeply for a long time: my dog. It might sound ridiculous, but nothing has shaken my emotions like this in, well, a really long time. Chester. Anyone who knows my family is familiar with the name. It calls to mind dirty white fur with puddles of rusty brown; oversized head resting on strong barrel-chest and stubby legs; crooked tail dancing with joy at the sight of friendly faces. Chester. I don’t know how to explain it, but he was more than just a pet. We found him, weighed down with the hardships of life on the streets, shivering in the corner of a concrete pound. I was five. He was two. From that day on he became a part of the family. He was a patient counselor when little girl hardships were too much to handle. He was the most understanding of comforters who wiped away countless childish tears with a consoling pink tongue. He was the link that united my family in times when seemingly insurmountable personal differences threatened to pull us apart. A shared adoration for this stocky little mutt has been a significant theme in the history of Luoma.

And now he is gone. Heavy with eighteen years of life, his exhausted bones fell asleep for the last time. I knew it was going to happen. It had to. But somehow the inevitability of loss doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

I realize now how much I miss home. It sucks.