Post by bretf on Aug 21, 2019 0:03:43 GMT
I've been preoccupied lately by several things.
The most recent was taking my daughter, my pal, my sounding-board, my canoeing partner, and I could go on and on, and leaving her at college.
Of course, I knew it would come and I'm so proud of her and her accomplishments and know she will do well in her future.
Still, its hard and I miss her.
I was at an appointment (another one of those things) with idle time so I pulled out my notebook and jotted down my thoughts of the morning.
It’s Real
I rolled over again, fighting the urge but looked at the clock. A quarter till 5. I had to pee and knew if I got up there was no way I could get back to sleep.
I rolled onto my back and the pressure in my bladder intensified so I gave in. I slowly got to my feet and shrugged into my bathrobe. Turning back, I saw T sprawled spread-eagle, front side down. Her arms extended from the sheet and her right leg was exposed. Her breaths (soft snores) came steadily and a tiny spot of drool showed in the corner of her mouth. I cinched the tie on my robe and went to the bathroom.
With pressing matters taken care of, I stepped into the alcove with the doors to the other bedrooms. I stood and listened while one of the cats rubbed against my leg imploring me to pet her. I bent carefully and picked her up, rubbing the base of her ears as I opened your brother’s door.
He was sprawled across the bed, his legs clad in blue jeans and his sock-covered feet just short of the footboard. One hand was across his chest, still in his shirt, and the other at his side. His phone lay just beyond his outstretched fingertips where it’d fallen when sleep overtook him and he’d “fallen”. I gently closed the door.
At the next door I paused, fighting down a lump in my throat and the burn in my eyes. After opening and closing my eyes several times and wiping them with the back of my hand, I turned the knob. The cat, your cat, jumped down and sauntered into the familiar yet foreign room.
It seemed open with none of your clutter between the door and the bed. The bed was lacking in character, your character, just a sheet on it. The banjo I hadn’t seen for years lay beside the bed. The shelves and everything they’d held were gone. Your ukulele was still on the wall, as well as your photos. I looked around, feeling your presence while feeling your absence.
“Come on PIppa,” I told the cat and scooped her up. She fought to escape and I was expecting her to draw blood. Of course with her, it wouldn’t be the first time. I stroked her back, and surprisingly, she calmed down. “She’s not here girl and she won’t be for quite a while. She’s gone.”
I stepped out of the room and closed the door. The cat jumped down, thankfully, as I needed to get the tissue in my pocket. My hand wasn’t enough for my tears.
“It’s real, she’s not here.”
