There was nothing but snow and sunlight… and dogs.
On New Year’s Day of 2022, I was standing in the middle of the snowfield in Kamikawa, Hokkaido.
I looked around and breathed. I exhaled really deep – so that everything could evaporate.
2021 has been a tough year for me. I contracted covid, broke up with a boyfriend, and suffered from depression followed by long-covid. Need I say more?
The more I tried to pick myself up, the more I felt stuck. I couldn’t focus at work. Those dating apps were distressing. I had to cancel meetups as the covid situation worsened.
But my stress was not only that. It felt like I have lost something important in me somewhere along with the extended isolation, which I couldn’t tell what it was. I haven’t been able to feel like myself since the breakup. I was feeling exhausted all the time. Even a trivial task seemed overwhelming, and I lost interest in the things I used to get excited about. I often found myself sobbing in bed or looking down at the ground from the balcony, imagining the moment I jump from there. For a few months, I thought it was because of the heartbreak. But as it prolonged for more than six months, I started to really worry if I continue to live like this for the rest of my life.
As the year approached its end, and as I repeatedly failed to get out of bed, I feel a need, or an urge, to do something to take me out of the ordinary life. But there were no parties or friends’ get-togethers expected due to the covid restriction.
Maybe I should travel somewhere, I started to ponder the idea. And it has to be one of my long-term bucket list items.
What are the things I can enjoy in winter, even if I’m alone?
So I signed up for an overnight dog-sledding tour in Hokkaido. There were four other people on the tour aside from the two tour guides. When we arrived at the base camp, I heard familiar howls. It was a distinctive barking of huskies! It reminded me of my childhood.
I used to have a husky dog named Daisy. The reason why I wanted to do dog sledding was solely because of the memories of her. When I was walking with Daisy, I would often thought about how it would be like to be on a dog sled.
Now, thirty-something years later, I was assigned to the third sled which was in the middle of the caravan. We had a brief instruction from the guide, lined the dogs up along with the leash and chained them to the sled. I put my foot on the sled, picked up the brake, and waited for a while to keep enough distance from the sled ahead of me. Then I shouted.
“Go!”
All the dogs moved their ears and dashed into the road. They listened to me! They pulled me!! Sheer excitement warmed up my frozen backbone. They understood what I wanted, and they did it for me!
And all of a sudden, a surge of emotion swallowed me. It was like as if I could catch a thin rope in the darkness and pulled it to me tightly so I’m not going to lose it ever again.
I felt I could get out of this tunnel when I reel that rope because the touch of that rope was so familiar. I instantly knew what it was. I was so sure, that that rope was actually the leash I would use when I took Daisy for a walk.
The tension of the rope. Its thinness and roughness. Even in the distant memory, I could easily recall its texture and I was sure that was a message from the dog I adored.
“Getting my groove back”, I thought to myself. It felt like I was finally being “me”, the one I know so well, the one I believe is a good person.
Going forward. Just look ahead and keep running. That was what my dog would do when we go for a walk. She showed me the most important thing in life – Looking forward.
Feeling an icy breeze on my face, I looked at the horizon. There was a big mountain frilled with silver forest. Sky was clear blue and everywhere else was white. Accumulated snow created a strange soundscape – I could only hear the creaks of the sled and dogs’ footsteps. It felt like I was the only human alive on this planet. But I wasn’t feeling scared. I trusted the dogs, and I knew they would take me back safely.
After the sledding, we took the dogs back to their huts – each dog had a small wooden box with straw beddings. We chained them and gave them some meat. They ate it up really fast, even though the chunk of meat was rock-solid frozen.
I realized that it was time to go back to where I came from. Feeling like missing them, I once again looked around the dogs. I noticed one of them was looking at me. I approached her.
“Hey buddy, how are you?” I talked to the dog. Her name was Kiku. She was very sweet. When I pet her on her head, she wagged her tail and tried to lick my face. I wrapped my hands around her face and spoke to her.
“Thank you for pulling my sled. I really enjoyed riding with you. You are such a sweet girl. I used to have a dog like you. A long time ago. Her name was Daisy. We were very good friends. I’m so happy to be here today because I had promised her to be on a dog sled one day.“
I remembered when I was 11 years old. I loved going for a walk with Daisy. I often dreamed about being on a dog sled. I was curious about the roots of the husky breed. I would tell Daisy that one day I would travel snowfield with huskies.
Tears came to my eyes, and they immediately got dried out with the chilling breeze.
“Thank you for taking me for a nice ride. It was really fun.”
Kiku looked at me and barked. I saw pure fondness in her eyes. I could see that she genuinely liked me. She doesn’t care what I have done a long time ago or what I have been through recently – she just saw me as a human, a travelling buddy, a feeder. I once again hugged her and let her lick my face.
She looked like Daisy, but I knew that they are different dogs. Daisy was a special dog to me and so is Kiku. Everyone is different. That fact gave me a sense of sadness and hope at the same time. Even though I was not right for my ex, there will be someone right for me. And I can love someone again in the future because I liked Kiku while I would forever cherish the memories with Daisy in my heart.
I looked up at the clear sky and realized I could finally understand why I needed to come here. I could let go of my limerence as I realized looking back doesn’t take me anywhere. I could let go of my expectations as I knew some things are uncontrollable, even if I try very hard (I fell off the sled a couple of times). I could let go of my ego (The dogs were sweet but they did not always listen to me). And I realized I was just a mere mortal who has limited time to appreciate beautiful things in life (I was freezing in the midst of a snowy field under a sub-zero temperature). After all, life is too short to be stuck in the past.
“Oh, yeah, Happy New Year.”
I greeted myself and the dogs. I was so sure that 2022 is going to be an amazing year.
A Thousand Years 