We wander far across the exposed expanses of windswept heathland; a landscape fully exposed to the wrath of that bone-chilling, icily cold wintry wind which hurtles itself down from the distant slopes of the purpley-tinged mountains standing solemnly on guard to the northerly horizon. And then finally, we come to the river. In carefree delight, Benny launches himself into the ice cold water, his little pink tongue lolling, the strands of curly hair at his chest and stomach becoming sodden with moisture as he waded deeper and deeper into the rushing, swirling waters.
Watching him, I could not help but smile, even though my eyes were filled with unshed tears, because seeing him there, contently splashing about without a single care in the world, made me realise how much I loved him; how precious he was to me.And how easy it would be for me to lose him forever: one single little slip, and he could be borne away, away from me by the hostile, inhumanely cruel current; a current which would take no heed of my desperate, agonised shouts to bring him back.
That single one fleeting moment made me cry out in alarm, gripped as I was by a sudden and unstoppable surge of terrified anxiety. I sprang to the riverbank and shouted his name. He turned and swam back towards the shore, soft brown eyes gazing into my own. As he emerged from the water, I enveloped him in my arms and held him tightly to my chest, oblivious to the muddy, cold water that seeped into my clothes from his sodden fur.
Of course, my fear then was more or less illogical. It was very, very unlikely that Benny, being the strong swimmer that he was, was in any kind of danger. But the moment stuck with me, when we finally got home and I was sitting by the fire with my laptop, gathering my thoughts together for a little blog post in which I could inscribe into words the realisation of truth that struck me today.
Because here now is the truth, the real, ice cold, undeniable and inevitable truth.
Life is precious and in a way, so, so fragile. It could so easily be taken away. And once we have lost it, let it slip through our fingers, let it go, just that once...well then, there is no going back. The rushing tide which took it away, will not simply bring it back to us when we realise our fatal mistake.
And yes, it would be so, so easy, for me, to just let life slip away from me, slip through my fingers like tiny grains of sand, grains which I will never be able to pick up again, grains which I will never again be able to retrieve.
I have wasted nearly half of my life, imprisoned and enslaved by ed.
Is it not time that I, that we, break ourselves free...
And not let ED steal away, one single piece more of this precious, transitory thing that we call life.