Compass

One of the first things they teach you in forestry school is how not to get lost in the woods.  Being a Western girl attending a forestry school smack dab in the middle of Connecticut, I scoffed at the idea that anyone could get lost in or around New Haven!  But, after spending three weeks walking through woods, compass and maps in hand, I realized indeed, anyone can get lost anywhere.

One of my grandfathers was, among many professions, an engineer.  For years I kept his compass, a gorgeous brass piece in an elegant wooden box, on my desk, to remind me about direction, true north, following the contours and topography of life.

Yet, it was Murphy who was my compass.  Over the almost 15 years she was in my life, we spent a lot of time together, and I can not think of a day that she didn't show me the right direction.  How to care better, how to love, to accept, not judge, allow myself to be loved.  And we also spent a lot of time outside.  The first words of caution out of lab breeders mouths are: this is not an apartment dog, you must have an active lifestyle to be loved by this dog.  So, indeed, Murphy and I engaged in an active lifestyle, which is, of course, part of my map, it is who I am.  

While I was in forestry school we certainly worked with the GPS systems, but before we could wander in the gorgeous mixed hardwood forests of New England with our hand held monitors and cumbersome antennas, we had to know how to use the compass, read maps, aerial photos, and work together as a small team (note to future foresters, it was always the team work thing that was key).  Murphy and I were old school like that, preferring to be as close to each other without anything digital between us or the land we loved.  I thrived with her around me, felt the confidence of knowing where I was going  and where I had been.

I slept fitfully last night.  I would wake, listen for her, then try to calm myself down to sleep.  Sage is still uncomfortable coming up stairs after her surgery, so she is downstairs, alone, and of course, I worried about that.  While I have been here before, this kind of loss is not new to me, I think as we age the lives carried with someone we love become deeper, richer, more meaningful.  I am without my buddy, my team mate.  I am without bearings this morning.

Murphy's day.