Not that that somehow seems to help, now that this moment is unavoidable. But if we can make this work, we can keep our home balanced on its hillside. And people do this all the time.
Meantime, we have a goal to hike together every month all year long. In December we hiked up around Pittock Mansion. It snowed that day, lightly, in a snowglobe sort of way.
We peeked in the windows at the Victorian Christmas trees and the grand woodworked staircases, through the scullery windows into the servants' realm. The gate lodge you can tour for free, which we did.
And which seemed even more delightful, because more imaginable, the life we could see ourselves living there. We bought old-fashioned cinnamon candies at the gift shop which warmed our mouths for the walk back through Forest Park to our car.
In January we hiked Oxbow State Park. We knew then that Fritz would be leaving us (Though not really leaving. Home every weekend. It still feels like leaving) which made him seem all the more dear and our time with him all the more priceless.
Now it's February and we're hiking on Mt Hood. There is snow here, though none at home. But where he's going there will be plenty of snow. We're being helpful, helping him to acclimate.
We're finding it a bit hard-going. Unsure of our footing.
What we will do without him. We don't ask ourselves that question.
We know what we will do. Go to work. Go to school.
Do homework and laundry and grocery shopping.
Nothing will be all that different.
|He holds my heart in his hands|