All we can hope, in this tangled day and age where nothing is certain and there are no guarantees, is that if someone decides one day to paint a memorial bridge in our memory, we get to come back and swim UNDER it.
This is what Jon filmed last night, when he went to check on our wayWard st™ beavers. Mom still there enjoying the pool and surveying the joint, and dad right behind being cautiously eager as usual. Will they stay only as long as that felled tree lasts? Will they move on in a day or two? We know what questions to ask but not what answers to give.
It occurred to me yesterday in my bleary sleep-deprived afternoon that it had been 10 months and 7 days since the last time I had seen beavers at Ward St. During that excruciating time we had missed them, mourned them, and given them a memorial.
Best. Un-memorial. Ever.
