Yes, we had to let go of our baby calf, Luna. She’d had a rough start and her immune system just wasn’t up to the task of fending off one infection after another. As I said goodbye yesterday, she leaned her head against me and licked my hand in a way that she hadn’t before. I took it as reassurance that somehow she knew we’d done everything we could and was happy for the last nineteen days that she got to spend with us–making friends with an old horse, lying in the flowers in the afternoon sun, running with the dogs –and perhaps she was letting me know it was all okay.
It was a quick and peaceful passing, and soon the sun was setting into a perfect summer evening.
Friends came over.
We ate hot dogs and ice cream and slapped the bugs, and in the growing shadows and laughter of children playing in the grass—doing summer things like squirting the hose and chasing the dogs,
–there was lots of joy, which there should be on a night like this, because all of it—summer and childhood, a flower’s bloom, raising children, time with friends, all the seasons of life, and even Luna’s stay with us, all of it is so deliciously and achingly—short and sweet.