Adaptation

A lot of water has passed under the bridge since Georgia’s demise and Shadow’s tragic death. I hope these are the last stories I’m compelled to write for a while over the loss of my precious animals. But I’ve grown and learned from the experience with each animal, and each time the frailty of life has slapped me in my face.
I pass over Elk River every day to come home and I often think of how life is so much like a river. Some days the river is crystal clear and peacefully moving toward it’s destination; other days the river is raging, muddy, and out of control, yet still racing toward it’s final home. At times, the river has so much mist and fog around it that you can barely see it, yet you know it is still there and certain it is flowing to the same place as always. And again, at times, the river is so low from lack of rain that it seems to barely trickle down it’s path. The force of the water can make the course of the river change, moving rocks and trees to new locations. While we can control various aspects of our lives, it is still like a river. No one can control the velocity and ferociousness of the current when it is raging; we just have to wait for it to subside and return to normal. And no matter how long the fog or the rage lasts, we are certain that things will return to it’s homeostasis, the normal balance needed to survive. The norm may have been altered a bit because of the change in the course of direction, but the final destination is always the same. People and animals have come and gone throughout the span of the Earth, just as water continually flows over the same rocks that have been here for ages. Sometimes we just drift through life with things crystal clear and peaceful; sometimes we can’t see where we are going or handle how fast things seem to be moving, feeling battered by the rocks or the trees that are being moved from their comfortable spots. Other times we feel like we have suffered a drought and barely have enough energy to keep going, but we all know that the rain will come and make us normal again. We may have to deal with a new rock or tree in our space, but we adapt, just as the river keeps flowing.
So, my river has raged and trickled since September 7, and many times I have let the fog make me lose sight of it because of various reasons. I’ve had two big rocks in my basin quickly forced to their final destination, with holes remaining in the spaces they used to occupy. But I will adapt and continue flowing in my own existence, taking the memories of how quickly my comfortable and clear river raged and changed course at this time in my life, and anxious to see the future paths my river may take, certain it will always take me home.