After fourteen years together, I tearfully said goodbye to my sweet pup last week. I am devastated by her absence. She came home from the shelter with me before I knew my husband, before my daughter came into the world. She was the first member of the family that I began to build for myself as an adult. I love and miss her terribly.
Over the weekend, I tried to be normal and to cope with my feelings of loss. Typically, I tried to keep busy taking care of the things that need to be taken care of at home. But sometimes the place where you live, that place you’ve filled up with memories can feel like a prison.
With a crazed sense of urgency it seemed that I might lose my mind if I stayed in this house one second longer. I had to flee. The feelings washed over me in a panic.
My motorcycle provided the perfect escape.
There is something healing in those two simple wheels. I experienced that when I lost my dad last year. Being immersed in the task at hand, being focused on what you’re doing allows you to ignore all of the nagging stresses, the hurts, the aspects of your life that you just want to turn off.
I think I would have had a complete meltdown this weekend were it not for the ability to ride, to get away from the part of myself I didn’t want to deal with.
Two-wheels to healing.