We had a morning routine where after my shower i would hand out marigold flowers and then share my breakfast banana with Spirit and Sienna. This went on for many years. First id drop the flowers while still only wearing my towel and then I would have to speed dry myself and get dressed to bring in the banana or theyd get impatient and then id be in trouble. I was listening to Raindrop Prelude by Chopin and the rising crescendo made me think of this moment so I wrote about it.
It begins softly, like memory,
a breath of quiet in the room,
the world still half-asleep.
The scent of hay and marigold drifts through the air,
and I feel the weight of eyes waiting beyond the door.
You knew the pattern before I did.
The creak of the shower, the closing tap,
the rush of water and the sound of my feet.
I’d hear your rustles grow quicker,
your soft thumps against the floor,
the impatient scrabble of paws that meant hurry.
If I took too long, if I did not rush, Sienna would huff,
Spirit would shift and listen close,
ready for the sound of the door and my voice.
The moments gathered, heartbeat to heartbeat,
my hands full of love and routine.
Towel and clothes, banana in hand,
breath held tight, your joy uncontained.
Spirit leapt first, brave and sure,
even when sight had left him behind,
finding the sofa’s edge by trust alone.
Sienna followed, eager and bright,
a flash of joy, a burst of light.
Then stillness.
I sit once more in the quiet, remembering.
You are not here, you are not gone,
you live on.
by J_rd_nRD