Wednesday, June 8, 2011

when lightning flashes

we laid in bed last night and i tried to coax myself to sleep when a flash of lightning lit up from the sides of the blinds in our bedroom window. a second later came the familiar rumble of thunder and i sighed.

we had to put our dog down last October and she had always been terrified of thunderstorms. we would keep her bed at the base of the stairs and there was a general rule that she couldn't come upstairs so that Wendy's allergies wouldn't be so out of control that she couldn't sleep. during a thunderstorm our terrified puppy would defy the rule, climb the stairs and try to sneak into our bedroom. it is during these nights that i would take the pup to the basement where she couldn't see the lightning flash in the windows and the thunder was stifled somewhat.

"i miss Maddie", i said.

"even though a night like this would've meant you slept in the basement?", Wendy asked. "i'm sorry Ian, I realize you love her and miss her."

i touched Wendy's hand and said "i'm sorry too honey, i realize you love and miss her too".

even after nearly 8 months that she's been gone i still pause when i get to the base of the stairs where her bed was or when i hear a dog barking as i get to my own door, or when lightning flashes outside my window.

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