A New Friend
By Lisa Casamatta, Lakewood, Colorado, U.S.
My eyes open to the early morning blue-bird sky. I am feeling renewed and refreshed after a dreamy nights sleep. Even though I have a king size bed and live alone, I seem to take up the entire mattress; maybe it’s because of the generous six blankets and four pillows that I cuddle. Then reality strikes. I remember what day it is.
I’m feeling empty; hollowness has been carved out inside of me. The absence of noise and people is deafening. Isolation has its strangling grip on me. I feel like the world has become dark, barren, and void
of tall trees, lush colorful plants, and beautiful animals clamoring about. I wonder, will this be the day I die alone?
There is something among us that is wreaking havoc every second, every minute, every hour, every day. It moves about brilliantly, invisibly, stealthy. It is steadfast, confidant, and relentless. It kills. It is an airborne virus. Humankind throughout the world is affected. Since we are all akin and interconnected, I know intuitively we are all in this together.
Will the coffee from Starbucks kill me?
Will the workers in the grocery store kill me?
Will that person in the elevator kill me?
Will the people walking next to me on the sidewalk kill me?
I adjust my mask and hold my breath, then step several feet aside to let them pass. I’m feeling extremely uncomfortable. It is counterintuitive to withdraw and avoid people. I am deeply saddened. I desperately want to hug my family and friends. I must break out of this isolation, loneliness, and despair. I need a friend. Dear God, give me strength, help me to turn my fear into faith. Ask and it is given.
I will seek solace in nature. Nature’s profound, exquisite beauty will heal the rawness of my mind, body, and sprit. I drive to my favorite park. I pull into the parking lot. There is no one there. It is quiet. I see the brown and butterscotch grasses laying doormat, sleepy soil with a frosting of snow resting gently atop the layers from the night before. I begin to walk, hearing the crackling, crunching sound under my feet. I wonder who could live here? Who could survive here? Could I? Then maybe I would be safe. I image an underground respite, a safe haven like a den that has sides of soft soil with some sparsely brown tree roots poking through. Exhaling slowly, at this very moment, all seems right with the world.
Suddenly my senses are sharpening. My ears are picking up the soft, muted sounds of birds, off in a distance. There are tracks in the snow. I look down and see four oval shaped paw prints. I lift my binoculars up and look out into the field. There she is! She is alone. Her gait is brisk and light-footed, almost floating and soaring above the ground. Her tattered fur is dusty tan and creamy vanilla. Her ears are pointed and seemed to be standing at attention. Her magnificent eyes are mesmerizing. Buttery yellow surrounds the black coal center. We acknowledge each other’s presence. We both become frozen statues. I am not alone.
My angst has softened and washes over me. I feel uplifted. We are all interconnected, and intertwined. Life isn’t always what I imagined, but more than I could have ever dreamed. Hope and faith appear, and we happily hold hands and hug each other!
This is the day I will trust that I will live. It is time to return home.