Dear Indie,

I write this with a heavy heart in an attempt to capture what you mean to me. 

You carried me through as a young woman
bringing me further into the woods,
offering me the courage to stand on my own.
You gladly sat by my side
as we drove to the Oregon Coast — the resting place of my mother.
I can picture you now, your sly contented smile, ears flapping in the wind,
as we drove with the freedom and excitement of our new found friendship.
You accompanied me on the beach where we spread her ashes
and allowed me to sit in comforted silence
to feel her
and to be with who I was becoming.
You were always there
walking beside me as I unpacked my biggest
fears and anxieties —
not requiring anything of me
but the movement of my feet
and forward motion.
This country road held us in the latter part of our journey —
you in your old age
and me as I unraveled and rebuilt myself as a new mother.
When the world felt too heavy, we walked.
There and back,
there and back.
Now that road lies ahead of me
empty and unknown.
I’m not sure how to walk that road without you by my side.

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