Her Quiet Presence

March 31, 2018

At night
When I would cry in my bedroom
Hot tears salting the corners of my mouth
She would bump her soft nose against my door
Push it open and peer in
Ebony eyes, shiny like obsidian
She would trot in and gently curl up next to me on the floor
I would wrap my arms around her neck and bury my wet face in her black fur
Her dark-as-night coat muffled my sobs

She was a big dog, almost as big as me
But I kept growing and she didn’t
The world kept changing, and yet she never did
She was always there for me at night when I cried
Even when she was too weak to shuffle into the kitchen when guests were over
She somehow found a way to pull herself up and make it all the way down the hall to my bedroom
Where she would lay with and comfort me

Now that it is people who are dying, and not just pets
I so long for her quiet presence
Next to me on my floor when I cry
Sometimes, when I look up from the crook of my elbow
My eyes glazed and blurred with tears
I think I can see her
Her black fur, stepping towards me
Here to comfort me in my sorrow
Here for me
I so miss her.

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