July 3rd: This time last year, we treated you to a pre-4th hike so you’d have the chance to relax and have fun before a day that usually resulted in you cowering in a dark, quiet corner, fan and music turned up high.
July 4th: This time last year, I was so proud of you for being social, tail wagging, greeting visitors and having a generally calm day.
July 5th: This time last year, you were still here.
Yesterday, I thought of you as I watched a lantern float up in the sky, floating farther and farther away from my reach, like your memory, like my recollection of the feeling of your fur, the shape of your face, the sound of your bark, the personality of your walk.
Next year, when I bring up “this time last year”, I’ll remember the myriad rhubarb desserts, deliciously unplanned like four girls at the prom wearing the same dress and each looking spectacular in their own way. I’ll remember the hilarity of mini confetti poppers.
But I won’t be able to say “this time last year, you were still here”.
Ah, time is a strange thing, isn’t it?
To Holding Tight to Precious Memories,