Ever since I was a little girl, the ocean has been a source of renewal and healing for me in times of trouble or despair. Two weeks ago, I took the opportunity to visit Dyer Cover in Cape Elizabeth (just south of Portland) while my rat terrier Henry and I were waiting to hear the results of his blood work. A random decision from the very beginning, I didn't even know of the cove's existence until I literally drove right into it. The decision to drive that particular road was random and wonderful and surprisingly amazing. I was only trying to get my mind off of things when it happened and boy was that a decision I will never regret...
Henry has been sick for some months now, with a rare immune disorder rearing it's ugly head suddenly in February. Since then he has spent a number of days uncomfortable from severe pain. Thanks to many vets and two different animal hospitals, Henry seems to finally be coming out the other end of the worst of it, though he will always be on some medication to keep his disease at bay. So two weeks ago I thought it would be fun to take him to the ocean, as a way to celebrate his newfound health and so that I myself could enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet celebration. He and I walked on the rocks for a bit, but we mostly just sat, Henry in my lap, and watched as wave after wave pounded the rocky coast of Maine and the lighthouse horn sounded over and over. It was just what the doctor ordered. And as luck would have it, while we were there, the phone rang with great news: Henry's blood counts were great - the first time we had heard that in months! Little did I know, it was the last good news we would have in a while...
You see, that was a Thursday. The following Saturday my cat Lucy became ill. On Sunday, less than 24 hours after I knew she had a problem, I lost Lucy. Just that suddenly. And, as if that didn't hurt enough, my other cat (Amos) became sick and I spent Monday in the vet with him. Thankfully he only had a mouth infection so he ended up fine, after a stiff round of antibiotics. Fast forward to the following Friday, and I had to put my 15 1/2 yo dog Lucky down...it was time (and had been planned prior to the drama that had unfolded with the kitties). So there I was, merely a week later, and all four of my beloved pets had made trips to the vets. Two came home, two did not...
The reason I share all of this comes back to my opening paragraph. Two weeks ago, the ocean reached out and grabbed me with its strength to tell me everything was going to be ok. Almost as a precursor to events, it provided me comfort going forward. It's like, it knew. It knew I wouldn't be able to take the time to escape to its shores the following week - there wouldn't be time, too much chaos and responsibility. It knew that life would call on me and I would need to respond...there would be no time for frivolous trips to the shore. So it gave me the gift of sounds, and sights, and smells in advance. The sounds of crashing waves and fog horns. The sights of water spilling over timeless rock and tidal pools. The smells of seaweed and salt water. It was all right there and it etched an indelible impression on my heart and soul. Looking back on it I cannot help but think it was Mother Nature's way of reaching out and giving us a big hug as if to say - "thank me later, but you'll need this".
Over the course of the last eleven days (hard to believe it's only been that long), I have gone back to that cove over and over in my mind. Longing to return to that point in my life so recently when Henry's blood work was the heaviest thing weighing on my mind. When I returned to my apartment to see four furry pets instead of only two. To know that all was right in the world. But alas, we cannot go back in time. So instead of longing for that time, I hold the memories close. Because what is past is past. And today, I have two loving animals, Henry and Amos, who love me dearly and continue to depend on me and I on them. And I know that someday, THIS will be the day I look back to and long for. So I will enjoy it and be grateful and know that even as I type this, the ocean is there, waiting to comfort me yet again...as it always has...
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