Here's a photo of me and my daughter's dog, Jax. Jax and I have a good deal in common. We're both very sensitive to the environment we're in and to the moods and feelings of the humans and other creatures inhabiting it. We both like to explore nature and have outdoor adventures. Also, our hair and eye color is strangely similar. This photo was taken in 2019, so we are both a little more gray now and our jowls sag more. If you stick around, you'll see a lot more of Jax, as I will be writing about him in my blog. He's taught me a lot about what it means to "belong". Jax will also most likely be starring in some photos and videos as his adventure on earth will most likely be shorter than mine so I like to document his magnificence while he's here for me to enjoy it.

Here is a photo of an important building in my life - the Carnegie Public Library in Poseyville, Indiana. This is where I learned that there were people in the world with different histories, mindsets, experiences and ideas than the people of Poseyville, Indiana. This is also where I learned that all humans share the same emotions no matter who they are, or where they are. For many years, this building was my portal to the universe and I have wonderful memories of Ms. Carol Lamar, who encouraged me to travel boldly within its walls.

When I was a child, I shared a bed with my younger sister and woke one night to the sound of her screaming. Our mother came

rushing into the room and flipped the light on.

"What's wrong?" she asked my sister anxiously, "did you have a bad dream?"

Janet's eyes were squeezed shut, but she reached out an arm and pointed to where I lay.

"There's a lion in my bed!" she sobbed.

Our mom sighed. "That's not a lion, that's your sister," she snapped. She grabbed a brush from the top of our dresser and told me to sit up. I blinked in bewilderment as Mom rigorously brushed my hair, tossed the brush back onto the dresser and snapped the light off on her way out.

The next morning, as I was climbing out of bed, I caught a glimpse of myself in our dresser mirror. My frizzy, golden brown hair was standing out in bushy halo around my pale face. I blinked my golden brown eyes. I do look like a lion, I thought.

For the first time, it occurred to me that maybe the reason I felt so awkward at school and at church was that I was not supposed to have been born a scrawny little Catholic girl in a midwestern farm town. Maybe I was supposed to have been a majestic, wild creature, roaming a mysterious land.

Well, it's too late now, I told myself and I did my best to tame the lion so that she could roam around the cornfields and the playgrounds and the sidewalks of a traditional small American town unnoticed. Someday, I told myself, I will set the lion free.

In the 57 or so years that have passed since the "lion in the mirror" episode (as I have come to think of it), I have realized that I am not so different from other human beings here in Southern Indiana or anywhere else on earth. I think that in spirit, we are all majestic, wild creatures, roaming a mysterious planet, longing to be loved for who we are.

If I had one dream for us all, it would be that we could set each other free.

Karen Elpers

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