Four scrambled eggs, tomato
and kale were two more eggs than she’d eat, but the other two were for the
dogs. She bounced through the kitchen grabbing pan and olive oil for a good
start to the day.
May fourteenth, twenty-two
months to the day since her husband died became the day she crawled through the
open window into her own world, where her animals spoke; and people, for the
most part, only made sounds of aye, aye, I, I, me, me, you with no comprehension.
Did she go insane? She’d
been through the dark night of the soul. No longer could she focus on words
spoken, when wind whistled. All of her adult life she had known who she was,
but this wasn’t that.
The dogs lined up in a sit
with tails wagging and smiling faces hanging open. Treat would come with tasty
grub for hard working, hard playing satos. She pulled the ticks off when they
came home from forays into the countryside hunting or patrolling. They revered
her kindness.
By the dogs’ body language
she knew what they wanted. Only the Border Collie puppy, Dominic, questioned
what she said. Treat knew how to handle puppies.
After a filling breakfast of
omelet and kibble contented curs curled up around the house. She listened to
the birds singing. This island home her husband loved had become hers. Peace,
clarity were here.
Everything else, now, that
was what felt strange, like when they speed up the action in a movie. How
drained she felt after an afternoon in the people place! Being dogless bothered
her, even if only for a couple of hours.
Over the last cup of morning
coffee she thought about how much she missed her guy, but didn’t cry. All cried
out? Or more to come? Who knows?
What’s the difference
between bitter and resigned?
Pissed off.
At twenty-two months she
grappled with acceptance.
Letting go had never been
her forte.
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