Tails of Healing

It was Friday, November 28th, or what is known as Black Friday, the hectic shopping day after Thanksgiving. For James and his wife, Anna, it marked the beginning of their cherished vacation month in Brown County, Indiana. The past ten years they had celebrated what the locals called Brown Friday while lodging for the month in the cozy Wildflower Ridge Log Cabin near the beautiful Village of Nashville. She loved the cabin and swore that one day they would retire and buy it.

“This cabin is going to be ours one of these days. It would be the perfect place to raise children.” She’d say.

“I think the present owner would have to agree on that one.” He’d joke back.

She’d just laugh it off and tell him to have a little faith.

James stepped out of the cabin early that morning and closed his eyes to take in a moment of peace. He breathed in the bitter winter air letting the silent, snowy landscape relax him before he went into town.

While taking some time to stroll near the snow-covered woods surrounding his cabin, he imagined what she might have said about the crisp air or the pine-scented breeze. His heart ached for her. Every memory pulled him back to when they would walk hand in hand through town, laugh by the fire, sip hot chocolate with marshmallows and just enjoy time together.

Anna had always loved the town’s rustic charm and beauty. For both of them, that place had once been a kind of sanctuary. Just a quiet corner of the world where time seemed to slow down. A place where they could just be together with no distractions or obligations. As he wandered past the old cabins and along the winding trails, memories of her surfaced, each one pulling at his heart in a way that hurt more than he expected.

He walked through town passing the bakery where she used to insist on getting cinnamon rolls “just because,” and the antique shop with the crooked sign she always found charming. As he walked around town window shopping, he could hear her laugh like the time when she pointed out a quirky decoration in a shop window.

It had been a snowy afternoon, much like this one. They had walked into town, bundled head to toe wearing their Christmas scarves and mittens. He remembered it being so cold he could see her breath in the air as she laughed. Anna had stopped in front of a tiny shop with a crooked wreath hanging on the door and a window display full of mismatched ornaments.

“Look at that one!” she laughed, pointing to a ceramic reindeer wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt. “Who decorates like this?”

James chuckled, watching her eyes light up. “Someone with a sense of humor and no regard for tradition.”

She leaned into him; her arm looped through his. “I love it here. This whole town just makes me so happy.”

He kissed her temple and whispered, “Me, too.”

He found solace in the peacefulness that surrounded him in the cabin. The soft crackle of the fireplace kept him company most nights. His thoughts drifted between the memories of their times together and the pain of her passing. As he stared into the flames he finally let himself cry. It wasn’t a cry that one would have from grief, but from the deep, abiding love he still carried for his Anna. He had come to Brown County seeking comfort, and in the solitude of the forest and the kindness of the town, he found it.

Each morning, he would make his way into the heart of Brown County, hoping the friendly faces might ease his pain. Their kindness helped him carry on a little longer even though he knew they couldn’t mend his broken heart. The townspeople greeted him with warm smiles and cheerful “Merry Christmas” wishes—more than he’d ever heard in his life.

He passed through the village square, admiring the festive decorations in the shop windows. As an avid reader, he always stopped by the old bookstore, where the scent of firewood and aged paper welcomed him. Its owner, Sarah, was a soft spoken elderly woman who would chat with him for what seemed like hours about the stories lining her shelves.

“Christmas and Birthdays aren’t the only time to buy books you know?” she said.

He would agree with her. She spoke about losing her husband years ago, and the camera he carried reminded her of him.

“Young man,” she said, “my husband carried one just like that.”

He thought about correcting her by explaining that the camera was a modern model and a year old. But he couldn’t do it. He felt it wrong to correct her on the memory she cherished of her husband. It was better to let her hold onto it.

“He took pictures of everything. All of our travels, our walks and even buying coffee on a quiet morning. He even tried to snap a picture of me coming out of the shower. I scolded him a good one over that.” She said.

He chuckled at her stories. He noticed how her voice held no sadness, only gratitude for the memories she now cherished. He, on the other hand, had no such photographs. The camera was purchased after Anna passed, hoping it might give him something to do to help get him through the days.

After spending time in the bookstore, he walked down to the bakery. The owner greeted him with a warm smile and waved him inside.

“Nothing like the smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh-baked cookies,” she said. “Smells just like Christmas to me.”

He wasn’t sure what Christmas was supposed to smell like, but he loved the cinnamon roll she always slipped into his coat pocket. Something she had done over the years trying to be sneaky without his wife seeing it. These special moments of going to the bookstore and the bakery became a must trip in his day. They helped ease the ache, simply by letting him connect with others and reminisce about the past.

On his third walk to the trails near the forest, he met an old farmer who had lived in the county for decades. They spoke of seasons past and sorrow, and how nature always moved forward even in bad times.

“Time doesn’t erase the pain,” the old man said. “But it teaches you how to carry it. Just like this river—always moving, even when it’s frozen over. You have to find a way to keep going even in bad times.”

In the evenings, James visited the local diner. He loved the meatloaf with gravy, mashed potatoes, and a cold Dr. Pepper. The waitress was a young woman with a smile that went ear to ear. She told stories of her childhood in Brown County that reminded him of how Anna always told about her life growing up. The way the young lady spoke he could listen to her for hours.

Sitting in that diner brought back memories where he and Anna would sit there for hours talking about their adventures around town. The table was cluttered with plates of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and sweet corn. Of course she insisted on ordering a Dr. Pepper “just to be nostalgic.”

“You know,” she had said, stirring her drink with a straw, “this tastes exactly like the one my dad used to sneak me when Mom wasn’t looking.”

James laughed, watching her eyes sparkle in the dim light. “So, this is your rebellious side?”

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone,” She whispered, grinning. “I do have a bad side.”

With each day that passed, he grew more comfortable sharing memories of Anna. He was thankful at how the townspeople shared their own stories of love and loss with him. It didn’t take long for their kindness to help mend his brokenness.

Three weeks before Christmas there was heavy snow on the ground and lots more fell. It was so refreshing for him to just walk around and enjoy the cold air and snow. The pain in his heart remained, but it was softened by shared stories and the warmth of new friends. He set out earlier than usual so the shops were not opened. He followed his familiar path near the woods thinking about the warm cinnamon roll he would soon have for breakfast.

As he neared the edge of the forest something caught his eye in the distance coming out of the trees. At first, it looked like snow kicked up by the wind, but then it moved closer.

“Well, look at that,” he said. “It’s a dog.”

A black and brown German shepherd ran up to him. It stopped abruptly and sat in the snow in front of him letting out a playful bark that echoed through the quiet woods. Its tail thumped against the fresh snow tossing it into the air.

He went to pat the dog but hesitated. He’d never been much of a dog person, which was something that had always frustrated Anna, who dreamed of carrying around a tiny Yorkshire Terrier. She used to roll her eyes when he called them “yappy dogs.” But something about this dog sitting in front of him tugged at his heart.

“Well, how are you doing, girl? What are you doing out here in this weather?”

He knelt, unsure if she’d bite him or not. To his surprise, she leaned into him, nudging his hand with her nose. He really didn’t want to spend too much time with her for fear she might follow him back to the cabin. As he reached out and stroked her soft fur a calm washed over him. For a few moments everything that seemed to bother him vanished. Her collar had Rafaela written on it.

She rolled onto her back with her tail still wagging. He chuckled. “Well, hello Rafaela. I can’t believe it’s twenty-five degrees and you want a belly rub?”

Her joy was infectious. As he rubbed her belly a smile came over his face. Everything else faded except for this moment of unexpected comfort. He didn’t know how long he rubbed her belly as he watched the pure joy come over her face. A smile cracked the corners of his mouth as she stood and gave an appreciative bark and disappeared into the woods.

Rafaela returned to him daily, bounding from the woods like a bowl full of energy. Her presence became part of his healing, which was something he desperately needed. It had been a year since Anna passed, a year of aching holidays and unbearable silence throughout his home. The pain hadn’t vanished, but he had grown accustomed to it. With the love she showed him it reminded him that even in the darkest times, happiness could still be found.

James walked to the same clearing in the woods every morning knowing she’d be waiting. She greeted him with unbridled enthusiasm as if seeing him was the best part of her day. James smiled as she raced ahead of him kicking up of the snow as she passed him. She'd then circling back to invite him into the fun. Words weren’t needed. Her exuberance filled the silence, and in that quiet, they communicated in a way deeper than any spoken word.

During those moments he learned to let go. Her playful antics and delight in such simple things as playing in the snow, showed him it was okay to pick up the broken pieces and move on. Sometimes, he’d sit on a fallen log to catch his breath, and she’d curl up beside him, content just to be nearby. The cold didn’t matter and neither did time. In those precious moments he felt a warmth that had been absent for so long.

She became more than a companion in those couple of weeks. It wasn’t just the walks or the play, it was her quiet presence, her intuitive understanding of his sorrow. He looked forward to the mornings knowing she’d be there to remind him that joy still existed, even in the midst of grief.

As the anniversary of Anna’s death, December 20, approached, his visit to Brown County no longer felt so lonely. The sorrow lingered, but the dog had shown him that healing wasn’t a straight path from one point to another, but a journey that would have its ups and downs. Thinking back to the day she first appeared, he realized how much had changed. He was no longer consumed by sorrow. He had learned to just enjoy life in those small moments with such an unexpected companion.

Curiosity about the dog began to grow. After each visit she would vanish into the woods with her tail wagging behind her, leaving James to wonder where she went. He imagined her returning to a warm home, maybe to a family who missed her. There was a deliberateness to the way she slipped back into the woods, as if each departure held its own intention.

What James didn’t know was just beyond the trees another broken heart was finding solace in the same place. Rose had arrived in Brown County seeking peace after the sudden loss of her husband a few months back. Her home had become too quiet and full of too many sad memories. She packed up and came to the small town hoping time and distance might ease her grief.

Rose walked the same path every morning and would often sit at the edge of the woods, gazing out over the snow-covered landscape. Something about the stillness calmed her in a way nothing else could. She had noticed the dog too that was always lively and loving toward her. The dog would always approach her wanting to play and be patted, then bound off again through the woods. She didn’t know where the dog went after it disappeared into the woods, but its presence reminded her of how life can be truly wonderful.

Rafaela had found her just as she had found James. They walked the opposite side of the forest seeking time away from the world they once knew. Neither of them were aware there was another person just beyond the trees who was walking the same path, carrying the same quiet ache, while searching for healing.

On Christmas Eve, James wandered into the woods near the place he always saw Rafaela. He hadn’t seen her all day, and curiosity tugged at him. Where did she go when she left him? He followed the path he imagined she might take, walking deeper into the woods than he thought she might go.

The snow crunched beneath his boots as he emerged from the dense woods. He paused at the edge of the tree line. The forest behind him was dark and quiet with tall pines covered in white but ahead lay a scene so serene it stole his breath.

The yard unfolded like a winter canvas with soft, untouched snow blanketing the ground, interrupted only by winding stone paths that glowed under warm garden lights. Each curve of the landscaping led his eyes toward a frozen pond that shimmered faintly beneath a thin layer of ice. String lights hung from a pergola nearby, their reflections shining on the icy surface like stars caught in glass.

In the distance, a house glowed with amber light, windows casting long, golden rectangles across the snow. It looked warm, lived-in, and welcoming.

James didn’t move right away. He let the cold settle into his coat, let the quiet wrap around him. After the long walk through the woods, this felt like stepping into a memory he hadn’t known he’d lost.

Evergreens stood proud with their deep green softened by snow, while a birch tree stretched its pale limbs skyward. On a wrought iron bench that sat beneath it was Rose. Her head tilted back with her eyes closed listening to the wind whisper through the branches, as the snow fell onto her face. Rafaela stood ahead of him urging him on, but James stopped just outside of the forest line. Growing inpatient the dog trotted over to Rose as if she’d known her all along.

James just stood there watching as Rafaela sat at Rose’s feet, gazing up with the same loyal eyes she’d always shown him. Rose bent down and brushed her fingers through her fur. She smiled as if to thank the wandering dog for keeping her company.

James stepped forward, a little nervous. His heart beating faster.

“I didn’t know she belonged to anyone,” he said gently trying not to scare her.

Rose looked up; her eyes filled with a sorrow he recognized.

“I didn’t know she belonged to anyone either,” she replied. “She’s been showing up every day running out of the woods so full of life.”

James nodded. “She’s been with me too. I’ve come here every day for almost a month. I never knew where she went after we played together.”

Rose’s smile deepened and her eyes brightened a bit. “Maybe she’s just looking for someone who understands how great it feels to have her belly rubbed,” she joked. “Or maybe she knows what we need.” She said lowering her eyes a bit.

They stood together, watching Rafaela settle between them, tail wagging slowly, eyes shining with so much happiness. James felt a connection he hadn’t expected—not just with the dog, but with Rose. In that moment, they were no longer strangers. They were two souls who had found comfort in the same place, brought together by the same gentle guide.

“I’m Rose,” she said.

James smiled, “I’m James. Nice to meet you, Rose.” He said as he extended his hand to hers.

Rafaela sat between them. She had been the bridge that led them from solitude toward something new. They both had found some peace as they watched the snow fall across the frozen lake.