She Isn't Here

-->

I wake up in the morning and wonder why I’m still in bed.  I used to take my time, listen to a meditation audio and plan my day.  I used to like my mornings, but now I feel like I should get up the second my eyes open, and I realize that I have trouble wanting to go to bed at night no matter how tired I am.

I get up and look at the floor.  When I go into the bathroom I glance at the threshold.  When I pass the guestroom I check out the bed. 

When I start to arrange my day in my head my timetables are at odds.  I don’t need to limit my time out.  I have more time to get ready for work and I don’t have to worry about coming home at a particular hour.  I can leave the house and take my time coming back, so why worry about a schedule?

She isn’t here anymore.  I don’t have to consider her in my plans anymore.

I go downstairs and look at my easy chair.  I can take the cover off of it.  That fence around the birdcage to keep the bird out f reach can go downstairs.  The bowl I’ve been stepping over and sometimes into can get put away.  It feels odd to reach for my snacks or the bird or the kitchen sink without having to stretch over something on the floor.  It feels strange to move around the house without having to be constantly aware of the area around my feet.  I can go down the stairs without a second thought.  I’ve got nothing to trip over other than the junk I left on the stairs.

Because she isn’t here anymore.

I don’t have to rush home straight from work.  I don’t have to make special trips to the pet store.  When the bird throws food on the floor I don’t have to worry about it, though I do spend a lot more time cleaning up after her these days.  There’s nothing between me and the stove, between my butt and the couch, between me and the door when someone knocks.  My kitchen counter is less cluttered with treats and toys. 

My dishwasher still needs cleaning out, though.  One day I’ll have the heart to open it and take out the boxes and bags of treats that I store there.  I wonder briefly on a daily basis if my neighbor across the street could use them.  And the basket of toys in the family room – should I take them to the shelter?

Back to my morning doldrums: I finally realize that I didn’t get my good morning hug.  Last night I didn’t get my comfy lap cuddle.  I don’t go out for a before-bed walk anymore and when I go to bed at night I feel like I’m forgetting to do something.  There’s an important chore I’m not accomplishing.  I’m going to have to find another way to begin and end my days.

I don’t have to fight off a tongue bath or let anyone out to pee.  The only creature waiting for me is the bird in her cage.  Even though she is glad to see me, she’s useless as a cuddle bug; she has a tendency to bite me when I get too friendly. 

My mood is low.  I have no feelings of accomplishments, no appreciation, no adoring stares; no one is waiting for me to get off my butt and do something worth watching.

           No one is looking through my grocery bags or sneezing at me for attention.

My plants in the backyard are thirsty.  My tomatoes are ripening without me.  I don’t go outdoors to do poop patrol any more. 

It’s just the bird and me now.  She’s irritating me because she always has to be with me these days, hanging over my shoulder, following me around the house and nagging at me.   Apparently she has a lot of things she doesn’t have to do either, so I’m her only source of entertainment.

Jolene is gone.  Her illness was unexpected.  The silence around the house was unexpected.  I never suspected that I’d be de-dog-proofing the house this week.  I wasn’t ready for her absence, and it’s still hitting me.

She isn’t here anymore.

Damn it.