~One~

“We won’t be long,” Mom said, bending down to kiss me good-bye. She tussles my ears and inhales deeply. She smiles and closes the door.

Her warm breath lingers on my cheek as I watch them disappear. The crunch of the gravel grows distant. The humming engine fades.

I stare beyond the dirty windowpane long after they’re gone. Gazing beyond the smudged fingerprints and my dried nose juice. Looking out into the morning, watching the clouds weave slowly over and around the early sun. It hasn’t yet hit the highest point of the sky. A couple more hours maybe.

A familiar form glides through the sky. It’s the red tail hawk searching for food. I’ve heard the hungry cry of her young. High above where their mother’s shadow grazes the treetops that gently sway to a beloved melody. A spirited tune that rouses me. Our robins? I wonder as they flitter past the window.

Late spring. The trees are full of leaves and the grass is rich and sweet. A soft lilac scent drifts through the opened window.

My muscles ripple in anticipation. It won’t be long before I’m out there. They’ll be home soon enough and I’ll rush out to greet her, I tell myself. I’ve waited all week for her arrival. We all have.

Nerves mix with hunger and my stomach rumbles though I ate just two hours before. Anxiousness wraps itself around my insides. I feel the grasp of the gnarly fingers. The tightness is uncomfortable.

Breathe, I remind myself, pushing my wet nose into a sliver of screen. A deep inhale stifles the restlessness that stirs within my gut.

You’ve been sitting too long, my aching hind end tells me. Move your vigil to the soft, worn pillow.

The cushiony folds envelop my body, and I see the tattered towel resting inches from me. I pull it close and let the scents fill my nostrils.

“I thought it would help if you were familiar with her scent before we bring her home,” Mom had said when she first laid the towel at my paws a few days earlier. But too many scents had mingled together, and even those scents had since started to fade.

No matter though. Because today’s the day. The shelter called. Shelby’s coming home.

I rub my muzzle against the dirty fabric. Soft, light pieces of fur tickle my nose. Soft, light and fuzzy. Her fur isn’t dark and coarse as Lela’s had been.

Lela. My teacher. My friend.

A familiar pang jabs at my heart as Lela’s face flashes before me. Joy and sadness mingle as I recall the memory of our first meeting. A memory that’s been tucked safely away.

My breath catches somewhere deep inside my throat. My body twitches. Hot, blinding tears seep into my eyes.

Five years ago, Lela waited for me. That was the day I came to live on the lane. I was only ten months old, naive and self-centered. But she had unlimited faith in me. She saw the dog I could become.

I’ve changed since then.

We’ve all changed.

Would Lela recognize me now? I wonder. There are certainly times when I don’t recognize myself.

Yes, Lela taught me well. I carry her still in my heart.

I can’t contain the sigh that pours from my chest. Its heaviness pulls my body deeper into my pillow.

How lonely I’ve been. How long the days and nights feel without her. Especially the nights. When there’s no one to talk to or to share secrets with.

Lela said our paths would cross again. I’ve spent the last year looking for her. Perhaps she changed her mind, I think. The possibility makes me quiver.

“Where are you, Lela?” I whisper in a scarcely audible whine. “I’ve taken care of them. Wait till you see how they’ve grown.”

I look to the clouds, but there’s no answer. No one responds. Silence surrounds me. A yawn passes silently through my lips.

Time drags its heels and boredom creeps in. Another yawn sneaks silently into the daylight. My eyes begin to droop, and my paws absorb the weight of my head. My eyes slide slowly backwards, and my jowls flutter lightly. I glide in and out of consciousness. Images flicker on the insides of my eyelids. The snapshots fade in and out.

Back in time I drift.

Reflections.

Recollections of my life.