A Foot in Two Worlds

A dog at the Sleddog Lodge who I nicknamed "The Skeptic"

Back home, I feel like I have a foot in two worlds: the one with the dogs, and the one with my family. I love both dearly. I feel guilty. The life of children and responsibility is hectic and leaves me frazzled; the dogs ground me.

I wander around the grocery, looking for artichoke hearts and winter. Is it here, in the frozen foods isle? It has rained for two days straight, and a southerly wind has made the temperature rise to 62 degrees. Where has winter gone? I turn the air conditioning on in my truck.

The talk everywhere seems to be "enjoy the weather." What's to enjoy? I look for winter like a forlorn lover. The sky is gray, the ground is drab, the trees are clawed, gray hands. I long to awaken to wagging tails and dogs howling and crystalline snowflakes lighting up, sending light in a thousand directions. The light penetrates me, touching my spirit. This gray zaps me.

I mention to few where I spent most of the "holidays." It feels like there’s no one who understands this love of mine now that I’m back home.