I Let Go. I Let Her Lead.

By Melinda Brett

My hand holding the thick black rubber handle tightens as I feel that tug.  That tug that lets me know I am not in charge.  The thin pink leash attached to a little being with the camel color markings against the fluffy white fur and a peacock tail that matches her prance.   A battle of wills with a 17-pound little creature that is the love of my life.  Is the battle with her or myself?

My idealized vision of the morning evaporating. 

I hoped for a serene morning.  The memory of walking side by side in the quiet of the woods, at one with nature. 

Not this morning. 

She sniffs, I tug.  She moves and stops.  She sniffs more.  She stops more.  I am trying, trying so hard to be patient.

Rather than the path to the woods we are crossing pavement into a parking lot across the road.  A parking lot, really?

This is not unfamiliar.

My teeth finding their way into a soft clench.  I feel myself wanting to scold, to tug back, to force.  These well-rehearsed thoughts.  Complaints.  Lamentations.  Why can’t it be this way?  Why does it have to be that way?

Having a vision and the universe not cooperating.  Her will against mine. 

I let go.  I let her lead. 

The stables are on our left as we continue our parking lot tour.  No one there, no horses, no sign of life.  I want to be somewhere else,  I always seem to want to be somewhere else. I look down and she is enthralled with life deep in the ground.  What does she see?  A family of squirrels scamper down a tree.  A decision.  She picks the squirrels.  Not for a moment needing or wanting it to be different.

Where do I want to go?  My desire, my wants, my ideas.  Where am I being led to go?  The uncertainty returns.

She decided the gravel path was more to her liking.   I look to the field to our right which is covered with long grass and likely hidden gifts left by other dogs.  I look to the right at a lake with the algae covering and static movement.  Neither look inviting nor appealing. 

She stops abruptly, heading the opposite way.   I feel we are meandering in circles.  Oh, how I long to direct but have surrendered to follow.

Entering the woods from a direction I had not anticipated.  Finally, the woods, but where are we going?   I have never really felt like I belonged except here. 

The rumination is back.  Where should I go?  Is it here or somewhere else?  I long to be a part of something.

Where do I belong? 

Belonging when I was younger was something I took for granted. 

Surrounded by so many people my age in my neighborhood, school, early in my career.  The crowds filled with my peers have thinned out.  The people my age seem harder to spot. 

It’s become automatic, this scanning for people.  Specific people.

I want to find a village.  A village of people that are full of life and wonder. Bright, creative, interested in all that still lies ahead.  I see colorful, flowy skirts, hair the beautiful shade of gray that mine has not quite found.  Men in Hawaiian shirts and a sparkle in their eye. Music in the background because I see dancing.  Dancing and laughing.   Stories around a fire with wisdom and adventures shared and plans for what’s next palpable.

I would be known there.  Seen.  A part of something that has far more energy than I can seem to muster on my own.

I see a young couple with their dog, young men jog by, two women with strollers.  Would I feel like I belonged if the people were my age?  Would I feel more connected if rather than strollers, I saw their mothers and fathers with walking sticks?

The concerts and sporting events and theatre could be more fun with companions that shared those interests. 

The yellow flower against all the greenery.  It surprises me.  Something I never expected to see and yet here it is.

In my heart, I know this is not about a change of scenery.

It is an expansion of possibilities I am seeking. 

Though I must say, good grocery stores, outside spaces and great pizza do matter.

I must face it.  This village I am seeking will not be a pre-formed group of like-minded people all clustered in the safety of the woods.  It will be individual relationships built and held with the sacredness this life demands, and all of the complexity that brings.

Around the tree, through the mud.  This willful little doggie following a scent with instinct I admire.  The lower branches reach out and scrape my arm.  Did they reach out or did I run into them?  Am I attentive or oblivious?

This village I long for will insist I continue with my efforts.  Planning a dinner and leaving the stack of library books calling from the credenza.  Reaching out a hand rather than waiting to be found.  Lacing up my sneakers rather than kicking them off.   Becoming an architect rather than someone seeking an existing structure.

Is it the air or me that has just shifted?  Morphed. For the first time this morning, I feel no pull to change it.  No need to move away from it. 

The fight has left.  It’s as if my entire body let out one loud and powerful exhale.  The tension is gone.  The need to figure it out has finally dissipated. 

Lilly has decided she has had enough. This time, however, she seems to pause and look as if inviting me to join her vs. forcing her will. 

The longing lingers.  The question remains.  Will I stay here, enjoying and deepening the relationships I’ve formed, or do I leave to follow adventure and the unknown?  I’m not sure. 

We head towards the car.  If only she could make all my decisions for me.