What does being in a car for 2,038 miles do to a semi-normal human being?  It leaves you with nothing but your own thoughts and an incredible amount of time to appreciate the amazing scenery across the miles. 

It happened to me when we moved clear aross the country from Texas to Washington State eleven years ago. My husband was in a U-Haul with our dog Kramer (now in doggie heaven) and all our belongings. I was driving my car and we were in our own little convoy across the U.S.  I was in awe of the drastic changes in the landscape.  I had all the time in the world to observe my surroundings without a single distraction.  Just me in the car, driving and seeing with new eyes. 

Those miles gave me the opportunity to think, reminisce, plan and listen to those "whispers of the heart". 

Anne Frank wrote:  The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be alone with the heavens, nature, and God.  Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.  As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be.  

That 2,038 mile drive through our beautiful country made me realize that life is what you make it.  My new eyes helped me look at my surroundings but it also helped me look within myself - for the first time in a long time!

Nature is painting for us,

day after day,

pictures of infinite beauty

if only we have eyes to see them. 

John Ruskin

{About the photo: On a trip to Montana, I looked over and saw these beautiful wild horses, grazing in front of that spectacular back drop... it literally took my breath away.  It was at Blackfoot Indian Reservation near Glacier National Park.  I could have stayed there all day and watched those horses roam free, so beautiful!}

♥, Sylvia

"Look at the moon", says my Dad.  He tells me he is sitting on the porch (at home in Texas) and was wondering if I was looking at the moon. There I am, standing with the phone to my ear and look out at the moon.  I take a mental snapshot of this moment every time because I know it's Dad's way of minimizing the two thousand miles between us. 

My Dad is a very simple man.  He started working hard labor when he was twelve years old. He learned English, or conversational English to be exact, on his own when he worked in construction. He's a man of few words who believes in hard work and helping others.  It's hard to believe he's in his sixties. When I return to Texas I notice the new wrinkles on his face and it makes me love him even more. He's weathered so much and yet he's still strong.

He wasn't the one to discipline me when we I was young so I never saw that side of him (my Mom took over in that category). I was a wild teenager, so I wouldn't have wanted a deep relationship with myself if I was him back then either.  I would not have been a good recipient of it and it was just not the right time for us. Our relationship has transformed through the years and things are different now. It is a wonderful thing that happens as children and parents grow in age and wisdom.  I believe full acceptance is what happens when you look past the flaws in each other and all that is left is pure and genuine love. 

photo by Sylvia Hall

I'll start with the day his life ended, because that is what is engraved in my mind.  We took him to the veterinarian, with a glimmer of hope but knowing deep down that the chances were extremelly slim.  When we decided that the best thing to do for him was to put him down, our hearts sank.  The vet gave us a few minutes to say our goodbye and mentioned the injection would take effect fast. Without thinking, I immediately put my hand on his heart; I wanted to feel his heart beating until it stopped.  That was my way of being there for him and comforting him. I remember thinking... "we're here with you buddy". The injection went in and within a few fleeting minutes he was gone. Kramer wasn't in any pain anymore.  I heard his last breath and my hand felt his last heart beat.  We walked out of the veterinarian's office crying and with our hearts completely broken. 

Dogs do that to us.  But before they leave us they fill our lives with so much love that their memories eases the void.  They know nothing other than to love us unconditionally.  They make us laugh and comfort us when we need it the most. We still miss him, but years later we reminisce and have warm and funny stories to tell about our dear Kramer.  Our beautiful and kind german shepherd. 

Grief is the price we pay for love but fortunately our wonderful memories never fade.

 photo by: Sylvia Hall