Whenever I hear of a dog, I ache. Whenever I see a brown mutt, I hurt.
Is this regret? or just the pain of my reality?
I miss her every day.
I see her in my dreams. I have even awoken deep in the night, weeping. I can still feel her fur on my palms, her tongue on my knuckles and neck. I remember the bad too. I remember how she would startle me with sharp sudden barking. I remember how she would cause our guests to wince. I remember every bite.
Yet, still, I ache.
Last night, our child asked for a puppy.
I can't. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.
Maybe not ever.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Being over Fleeing
I am cultivating simplicity, relying less on entertainment, technology, and complexity. At this time, this post-election time, I am plungin...
-
She pulls her index and middle fingers to her mouth and sticks her tongue between them. "What does this mean?" Mom asks, frighte... -
I am the introvert hostess hiding inside her bathroom. G uests arrive to my writings on the wall, to platters of awkward tension and to ... -
She held a box of crackers and a couple of other things in her hands, which I cannot remember now. And as her three items went beep, beep...
No comments:
Post a Comment