The Moose, the Bear, and the Salamandar

Last spring, in early June and soon after my father had died, I went for a walk with "Penny" in the woods and fields by the house. I walked as if in a bubble not feeling the breeze or smelling the fresh wet earth. Colors were dimmed, the forest many shades of grey, and I wondered how it was that the body stops breathing and where my father had ended up.

My dog and I walked directionless along familiar paths; Penny stopping to smell this or that pile of leaves or twigs or running into the woods after a squirrel or chipmunk. Grief moved like a low toned vibration under my skin and through my spine. Suddenly, Penny froze several feet away from me and up the trail. I thought maybe there was another dog approaching but when I looked up saw the large eggplant shaped head of a moose staring at me and Penny. For seconds, we all stood still and looked at each other, the moose looking as curious as myself and Penny. But Penny couldn't hold still for long and soon sped towards the moose flushing her back into the woods. Wow, I had never seen a moose so close to home and in these woods I have walked now for almost ten years! And it hit me that the moose had been sent (somehow) by my father to let me know that everything would be okay, eventually, just fine.

Deeply comforted by the moose's visit, we turned to head back home. After a while, Penny stopped again, stock still. To our surprise, a black bear lumbered towards us through the woods. What luck! another visitation. If this bear could make due in the little patch of woods between our town and highway, I surely would be okay. Penny chased that bear away. Almost back to the edge of the woods now, color began to seep into my field of vision; vibrantly green mosses, yellow lichens, and the orangest of salamandars alert in the mud.