Freedom
When she's out here she's free.
I often think this about Cedar. Being deaf and a stray, I've often been moved by her tenacity to own her space.
Its one of the most common senses we long for. I think we're born with an inherent longing of freedom. We search for the American Dream of freedom. We long for that thing that sets us free. But it's different for everyone. My freedom is one thing, a thing that you maybe brush aside knowing that something else completes your vision of freedom.
Why is it different? How is it different?
Many people say freedom of speech is freedom. I don't know if I've ever felt free by speaking. I believe I've always felt freedom in silence. In reading, in watching, in listening. It's at these times where my mind is free.
Cedar goes outside and has never doubted her freedom in this space. Jumping, bouncing, barking, running. We play, she catches frisbees. She runs the length of the beach or jumps to catch a splash. Is this her freedom? Has it always been her freedom? It's become my freedom too, in a way. But who helped who find it? Did I show her the magic of the trail or did she show me?
Growing up I spent days outside searching. Searching for animals, nature, and adventure. I'd find it in a monster alligator snapping turtle waddling through the back yard, only to find itself being heaved into a wheelbarrow and slid into what we called 1st pond.
I found it in the hoards of baby bullheads skimming the surface of 3rd pond.
I found it after a storm, trying to stand in the deluge of water that cascaded from the water tunnels into 3rd pond.
As a child freedom was a door away. It soon became a book away. I'd build forts by the 2nd pond and read books like Where the Red Fern Grows. Imagining that I'd have a couple of coon hounds to scour the wooded area surrounding the three ponds I considered my territory.
As I look at Cedar and see her freedom blossom out as we tromp through the trail, I always wonder if this is the freedom I always knew I needed. I silently reflect on these moments as she bounds after the next smell and wonder how freedom could be anything other than this. To her it's one thing. And one thing only.
