|floatplane taking off|
Or rather, from what or who were both Mama and Papa Bear running away from?
Since we took each other with us, we weren't running away from each other.
|icicles hanging off rock face en route|
How did someone as gentle and caring as Papa Bear end up in this kind of situation? Where running away appears to be the best answer?
Did he do something wrong? If so, what?
|still waking up from the winter nap|
|barge plying Georgian Bay tied up at pier|
|remnants of snow on ground|
And then, out of the blue a job opportunity came up. Suddenly. Good news, right? In a way. But then the problem became, how does one extricate oneself from an abusive situation? Does one do the honourable thing and give notice with the potential of being threatened, fired on the spot, abused for two more weeks, or ignored?
Papa Bear was so distressed, he couldn't sleep at night. He had no peace. Tormented, he wrestled with the problem. Seeking an answer.
|two men and their "canoe" hats|
|unadulterated peace and beauty|
We packed hurriedly - and left, thus avoiding future confrontations either on the phone or at our house. Only a few people know where we are.
Were we cowards? Or did we do the right thing? We will probably never know.
Yes, we will have to return home in a few days, but for the moment we're saturated in peace and beauty, rather than patching up emotional wounds.