The afternoon settles in and the heaviness collects.
It’s a repetitive scene of sultry, summer skies.
Four nights now … maybe five
have told the same story. Beautiful afternoon skies fill with dampness that collects
until the weight is so great
there has to be a release.
The lightning is thrown from the heavens and crashes all around us.
It rumbles in the east and rolls across us to the west.
It shakes the earth, the air and the thin panes
that separate us on the inside
from the downpour on the outside.
The Dalmatian paces the hall. She follows on the heels. She sits beside my chair. She lies by my bed. At bedtime, sweet Joy drags Dulcie’s bed down the hall to my door to offer her some solace. There, she knows she is close to family and out of reach of streaks that fly across the sky bringing pounding claps of thunder. We cannot truly comfort her. She will pace through the night. She will pace until the clouds empty and the heavens quiet. Joy removes her collar to silence the sound of restlessness as she paces.
And I know across town, there is another soul that stirs with angst. Glory is just as irritated by thunderstorms. I don’t know why, but she is terribly afraid of storms. If she is out and about as one moves in, she will find a way to head home. She prefers her room and its familiarity during distress.
But, home is no longer here … at my house. Sunday, she put other things aside and packed her boxes. Monday, she and two friends gathered their belongings from three different places and took them all to an apartment that the three will share …. for at least one year. I thought I’d be crushed. I expected I’d cry. But, I’m okay. It’s been a natural, slow progression. She has spent little time at home of late. She works long hours, plays hard and often spends the night with friends.
What I’ll miss is her flitting in to change and shower and her ten minute, fast-speech-updates on the activity of the last 24 hours. I’d always get an update on who is doing what, how work went, if she made good tips and who she had seen at the restaurant.
Monday, she went to a funeral for a friend’s mother who battled cancer for years. I have yet to hear details, because we’ve not had a chance to talk. Lynette left behind a teenaged son and a ten year old. I didn’t know her well, but I didn’t have to be a close friend to know that her death will influence her boys for life. I pray for them.
I’ve told her that I’ll miss her. She says she’ll come back and see us.
But, what she doesn’t understand but will quickly learn is that
there is no going home.
Things will never be the same.
There are some changes that can’t be un-done.
I remember the lesson from my youth as being one hard to swallow,
difficult to process,
laborious to take in.
Once I left for college, home was never the same.
And it’s not a bad thing, it’s just something that you don’t expect
no matter how much you expect it.
Her tiara rests on her bookshelf, darkness filling the night sky and emptiness fills her room. I listen to the heavens rumble and think of a princess across town. The storm will blow over, the night will soon quiet and the canine will settle down.
But, some things will never be the same.