A Higher Road that Leads to Different Places

I woke up to a tiny little head bobbing up and down at the foot of my bed. I was in the guest room at my brother's house in a room filled with boxes and laundry baskets brimmed full of clothes, and household junk. My brother was moving out that morning, and his little chihuahua was coming to greet me awake. I laid in bed while Isabel hopped around licking my face and snuggling into the space between my chin and neck. About a month ago my brother and his wife decided to get a divorce and this morning he was taking the final step in moving out of the house. I came down the night before just to help. I have never gone through such a thing, so I didn't know what to expect while watching my brother say, "this is so weird..." and shake his head while he was looking at empty rooms where their stuff used to be. I did have an idea what the morning could have been. Perhaps a hurtful remark placed with the accuracy of a sniper would incite an argument, lead to a fight, finished with with mean words and a slammed door. Breath filled curses would escape his lips as the house would shrink in the rear view mirror. Maybe all those things have transpired already, I don't know; but in this morning of transitional funk, it was simply melancholy smiles and heavy hugs between two people who deeply care for one another. What we love in life; it's surprises, spontaneity, variety, and new scenery, are the same we fear and loathe. The nature of our love/hate relationship with life's future is that it's singular constant is never allowing us to know what is in it's wings. Songwriter Carole King describes life as a tapestry, "An everlasting vision of an ever changing view, a tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold." I said goodbye to her and took a quick photo of their last hug and felt just like they looked. That mixture of confusion, sadness but eventual continuation.
Good luck to both of you.