I woke up feeling better than I did when I went to sleep.
That’s always a good sign.

It was a beautiful, rainy morning.
As soon as the rain slowed down I took the dogs out.
We have a puppy.

I’m not sure if we’re just fostering her or if we’ll keep her with us long term. Either way, she’s ours for now.
A friend of Ma’ayan’s found her (and her sister who we already found a home for) on a back road, late at night over a week ago.
She was pretty banged up. Skittish with a deep, infected gash on the side of her mouth.
We treated her with antibiotics and got her all stitched up.

Nine days in and she’s healing just fine and feels like part of the family.
We call her Comanche.
It’s been great to have puppy energy around. It softens the edges – expands the heart.

Anyway, me and Harley and Comanche set out on our morning walk. It was the first day the winter was visible.
We’ve been feeling the winter for the past week or so, but I hadn’t seen it hit the land like I did this morning.

A big, beautiful gray sky. The horizon, clear as newly cleaned glass. More green than we’ve seen for months and months.
I walked along the back roads between Yonatan and Keshet enjoying the smell of wet earth and playing search with the animals.

Comanche was starting to get tuckered out and it started to rain, so I picked her up and held her inside my jacket.
I listened to this song and let my mind travel.

Thinking about how grateful I am for the opportunity to live in the Golan Heights.
About how healing it is to care for something small and cute especially as my role as caretaker to my own kids is shifting so sharply.
I thought about the utility of biology – how much wisdom and synchronicity lays between body and life.
About how wonderful it is to love.

I started thinking through my blessing for our soldier, our Ma’ayani, who is drafting to the IDF tomorrow morning.
I imagined her with her golden curls, blue eyes, and her army greens.
I teared up.
I smiled.
Aware of how big our moments are.
How strong they are.
How full.

An army truck drove past us and slowed a bit as he noticed the little black and white head with her dorky plastic protective cone poking out of my jacket.
He smiled and gave a wave.

I waved back and blew a kiss to the air.
I remembered part of the prayer that had just landed a few minutes before.

“May Gd keep you safe and protected in all ways,” I whispered to them, to her, to all of us.