Why not a llama?

As my friends have commented, my posts of late have been quite melancholy. Yes, melancholia pursues me quite ardently, but I also recognize what a good life I have. Sometimes I am struck, as with melancholia, with unanticipated joy. Today was one of those days - Sasha had poured all his toys out on the ground and was building towers and train stations, Pavel was napping and I was drinking my morning coffee, listening to Schubert on the radio and watching the wind blow serpentine-like snow across the empty road. Crystallized ice in the form of wild flowers sat on my window. I was warm and comfortable and I needed nothing in the world.

My drive to and from town is one of stunning beauty and desolation. Perhaps it is the emptiness of my landscape that brings me the loneliness I often feel. But in the emptiness, things are more vibrant than they would be in a populated and greatly foliaged area - like a single oak tree, a farm house, or a llama.

I have begun to look forward to my llamas as I come up the hill on my way home. They stand out to me more than the horses and cattle, as they are often looking out in a searching manner, their pose regal. Rarely do I see them, necks bent to the ground, munching away at the barren pasture like the other animals. I feel a certain comradeship with them. Like me, they are different, they stand out, as if they belong to a different time and place, and their long necks strain to find something they can grasp on to that reminds them of home.

Many have dogs and cats, even rabbits! (my goodness - don't all rabbits have rabies?), for pets. But why not a llama? I certainly have the acreage for it. I could build a little barn and buy them hay, or whatever it is that they eat. We could talk of Bolivia, the great civilization of the Incas and our melancholy. We could go on long walks together. She would be called Lima or Lena. He would be La Paz or Simon. It would be grand.

Yes, a llama. I think that would bring much joy to my life. I will look into it.