we picked up maxwell’s ashes on Saturday. the place was bright-lit and respectful. They put a tin, covered w/ a flower-pattern, into our hands and we stepped outside, into the hot sunlight.
Leaving the parking lot, swells of emotion found me. How could an entire life – 9.5 yrs worth of trips and hikes and balls and moves and treats and walks – be reduced to a small square of ashes? But there he was, in my hands, reduced.
It was clear out. we found our way to the waterfront and rode the tram up to ohsu, taking in the vista - the snow-capped mountains, the boats on the river – maxwell’s ashes at our feet.
we stepped into OHSU, walking through a hallway that had been remodeled since our last visit - there were no patients, no rooms, no nurses station - only bright paintings and drywall. It was the very floor where I stayed after my first brain surgery.
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riding bikes home from work yesterday we stopped at dots for a drink and dinner. sitting outside, a golden named Charlie came by. 10 months old and full of love.
after dots we rode up Clinton, only to come across, some 10 blocks later, a small golden retriever pup named Serafina. She looked exactly like Max did as a pup. we leapt off our bikes to greet her.
then, later, many blocks later, almost home, a third golden walked by w/ his owners. he looked old, but hale and well-loved.
We couldn’t believe it. What could it all mean? 3 goldens in all stages of life in one hour, on one bike route?
We came home and brought the tally to 4, greeting Max in his tin on the mantle.
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