Adjusting

The thoughts are fleeting, but they occur throughout the day.

We’d better get home, I bet Bailey has to go potty.

Who is going to walk the dog?

Every time we come home, after saying hello to Remi, who is always waiting for us at the top of the stairs, I look down the hall to find Bailey. He was always on his bed on the kids’ bedroom floor. Only now his spot is empty. But still, I look.

The rabbit thumping around in his cage sounds like Bailey’s feet on the floor. The spurting water sounds like Bailey running in his sleep, as he always did.

He is everywhere, and nowhere.

But, as usually happens with time, we are healing.

Remembering.

Missing. 

Adjusting.