+8 Months (Believe It!)
A mysterious visitor.
The day began like so many others up here in Canada, at The Healing Oasis, where I have been coming for three years to receive cancer treatments, and to volunteer. I live up here in a double wide camper I have named Big Bertha.
Bertha is lovely, a real fun little home in the woods, where I can wake in the mornings and jump into a lake, where I can rise to the sounds of loons and eagles. I sometimes walk out of Bertha at dawn to be greeted by a family of deer, with big Canadian jackrabbits at our feet and hooves.
We all know by this point I’ve beat the odds, I’m in longevity mode. 8 months past my sell-by date.
And lately, you may have noticed an undercurrent of sadness and maybe a bit of resignation in these writings. Hey, it’s hard to have an active and aggressive cancer diagnosis for six and a half years without a few dips and skids.
But I feel I am in the right place up here. I feel part of a mission, a team.
But, I wish I was all better. OK: I wish for a miracle.
I was, however, not prepared for the sweet little miracle that was right around the corner.
At the The Detox Room, where I coach our guests on an oxygen / exercise routine, a message came over the walky-talky from Jaden, our facilities manager.
“Jen, the goose keeps following me. I got in the side-by-side, and it is now following the side-by-side.”
What?
I ran out to see our little motorized transportation car coming up the hill flanked by…really??...a good sized Canadian Goose, keeping pace with the little car, as it would a flock of its peers.
I approached the creature cautiously. It appeared unafraid.
I sat down on the grass, and the goose walked up to me, making incredible and adorable little goose noises, like I was a trusted member of the Geese Elite.
I couldn’t believe it. None of us could understand the level of apparent domesticity that this robust and healthy Canadian Goose exhibited.
Plus, we couldn’t shake him (her?). He would follow us everywhere, and when I went across the road to exercise our guests, he followed me there. I shut the door to the gym reluctantly.
But upon my first break, I went to find this extraordinary creature, and discovered him down by our private lake, waiting on the shore, walking around, waiting for a friend, really.
I sat down, and he came right up to me, making the sounds. He was gorgeous; young enough to have silky down still on his lovely, graceful neck, but with a nearly adult size body full of lovely, perfect feathers. He would curl his neck into his plumage to groom and clean himself, shutting his eyes to reveal, against the dark blue black facial plumage (with the white band) a lovely little white eyelid.
I began speaking to this wonderful phenomenon. I gave him a name: Swanson. I was concerned that he was getting enough food, but should I feed him? I pulled up grass, and he ate the grass out of my hand. I was stunned by the charm of this.
Then I had an idea. I got on the paddleboard and paddled into the lake. Of course, Swanson was right beside me as we glided across our lovely Lake Renewal, keeping pace with the paddleboard like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I began telling Swanson about my life, and how uncertain I was, but how beautiful life was, and how beautiful he was. I slipped off the board and swam around, and Swanson seemed to especially like this, he kept pace inches from my head, and when I went under he instantly did the same, tipping like a teapot to get his whole head under while his goose butt tipped into the air.
I was breathless with joy.
Alas, I had to get back to work. I dried off and started up the long hill to my gym, with Swanson, of course, right beside me.
As I approached the road, a truck slowed down and a couple jumped out.
“Squeaky!!!”
“You found Squeaky!”
They rushed out of the truck. ”Squeaky” walked right up to them.
“We have been looking everywhere! She (ah!) got confused by the storm. We lost our pet turkey also.”
They then did what I never dared - they scooped Squeaky up - “she doesn’t really like to be held” - thanked me, and asked if I wanted to say goodbye.
I reached out and stroked the downy neck with my fingers. Goodbye.
And they were off.
I felt glad Squeaky had found her way home. I was worried about her diet, the dogs we had here. Deep down, I knew that Squeaky, like myself, was just a visitor here.
Like all of us . . . just passing through.
But Squeaky had come here with a message. Any day can present us with a Miracle. Life is now, in the moment. And that each moment had a depth of novel and cosmic joy that binds together the whole universe with mysterious and indescribable Love. All is in transition, and temporary, and somehow, also, forever.
Goodbye, Squeaky. Life loves us.