As of last night about eight o’clock, the last of the Christmas decorations were back in containers and on their designated shelving units out in the garage.  All that packing was a bit too much for Bella because packing makes her anxious.  I suspect that somewhere in the past and long before we knew her, someone she loved packed up and went away for ever.

As far as Bella is concerned, separation anxiety is a very real condition, but the same is true for humans.  

We’re getting ready to launch off on this year’s snowbird adventure. Early next week we’ll be heading for Tucson.  When we arrive will the Internet be working? Or the well? Or the security shutters? And when we leave this house, what could go wrong here?  Another fish die off in the pond?  Another broken pipe resulting in an interior flood? I know for sure the heron is back because I saw him last week. Unfortunately he flew away before I could lay hands on my Nerf gun. When we get to Arizona, there won’t be any herons because there are no fish in our outdoor fountain, but what are the chances that something we need to have in Tucson—like the Garmin, for instance, or paperwork Bill needs to do the taxes—will still be here in Seattle?  

In other words, Bella isn’t the only one dealing with separation anxiety. Bill and I are both lying awake, tossing and turning, and trying to make sure we’ll get all the pieces pulled into some semblance of order in time for our scheduled departure.

That’s the thing about change—even change for the good when you’re going from to cold to the warm. It’s as unsettling as it is inevitable. It’s easy to point that reality out to someone else and tell them they’ll just have to learn to “roll with it.” It’s a whole lot harder when the one required to do the rolling your own darned self!

I suspect that there are a lot of other people out and about who could use a dose of the serenity prayer along about now, especially the part that says you should change the things you can change and accept the things you can’t.

That being said, I believe it’s time for me to go walk a few laps. Today’s 10,000 steps may not be a sure cure for my current case of separation anxiety, but I’m pretty sure they won’t hurt, either.

See you at the other end of the road.