too quiet… and too noisy…
yes, it’s both at the same time.
miss the ticking of nails on the floors. I miss the middle-of-the-night
sleeping adjustments taking place just beyond the foot of the
bed. I miss the water bowl… the snoring… every simple thing that
is part of the background noise in a home though normally quite
hear the furnace kicking on. I hear the walls creak from the wind
and temperature changes and other assorted oddities outside. I
hear the rain on the skylight. I hear sounds, familiar and identified
as well as unfamiliar and strange. I hear the furnace turning
house is too quiet. The rhythm and pace and normal happenings
are all wrong. I’m used to being asked for treats and water and
walks. I’m used to noses lifting my arm and pushing against my
feet. I’m used to being greeted at the door.
house is too noisy. None of the little sounds are in tune with
my expectations. The swirling and blowing outside is different.
I’m not opening the normal cabinets. And I’m not even wearing
the right shoes.
Yes, slippers. They aren’t made for quick trips outside in the
snow. They don’t sound the same as sneakers or loafers or boots
shuffling along the hall and kitchen floor on the way to the leashes.
They’re warm and they’re comfortable and… and… and they seem all
memories are everywhere...
suppose not the ones you would expect. Not the pictures. Not passing
a favorite spot in a room or a leash still not put away.
the dog food in the cabinet. It’s the throw rug in the corner
that had been for water bowls, and the carpets around the garage
arranged for muddy paws to be wiped on. It’s the drool rag on
the couch (and the drool on the wall, just behind a piece of furniture
or in a room unfrequented, unnoticed for a bit of time)… it’s
the row of a store, so often walked, with a box of treats so often
purchased, and now the slightest of pauses before walking past
not the memories.
the barely a split-second trigger of thought, bridging unconscious
motivation and conscious action until awareness arrives.
still go outside every night…
tuck them in.
November of 1993, I spent the first night in my new place… a duplex
in Rhode Island… in a sleeping bag on the floor. When I woke up,
I got in my car, and my sister and I went to pick up Lady. From
that day on… the Wednesday before Thanksgiving of 1993 until Saturday,
January 17, 2015… I don’t believe I ever spent a day in my home
without walking my dogs.
course… there have been trips, when I wasn’t home and someone
else was watching some combination of Lady, Travis, Molly, and
yes… I may have been under the weather, or gone to bed early,
and Terry stepped outside with them.
honestly… I couldn’t give you any specific dates when, if I was
home, I didn’t begin and end my day with them. That’s easily over
7,500 mornings… more than 7,500 evenings… where we spent time
together. There were countless times when we shared midday strolls
and midnight snacks.
now, it doesn’t feel right to head off to bed without stepping
don’t know how long it will continue. Maybe another few nights
or weeks. Maybe I’ll step outside in the evening for the rest
of my days. For now, I need those few moments with them.
night was very cold, with a gloriously clear sky full of stars.
My breath misted and clouded the air in front of me. The snow
sparkled as a three-quarter moon spread its light upon the blanket
across the yard… a peaceful white with glitters throughout and
a beautiful moment to be standing in the fresh air.
love you. We miss you. Sleep well… and I’ll see you tomorrow.