The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears. ~John Vance Cheney, American poet and librarian
The Kid (AKA Domer) came home on Saturday, and I nearly jumped out of my skin with excitement!
It’s been AGES since I’ve seen him. (Mama says two months, but that’s ages to a dog).
He lets me lick him, even his face (something my mama never permits).
He taxis me up and down the stairs when my joints hurt.
He shares bananas and donuts with me in the mornings.
The whole house is noisier with laughter and activity, and I don’t feel the need to snooze all day because I know he’s going to do something fun, and I want to be in on it.
When I saw him, my tummy started fluttering, just thinking about The Feast — you know, turkey and all the trimmings, along with pumpkin pie.
But Mama says that happens the next time Domer comes home.
I could’ve sworn it was Fall. Mama decorated the house with leaves, little kids are back to riding those big yellow buses, something called football is on TV again, and it’s dark now when I get up in the morning.
Doesn’t that mean Fall?
And Fall means pie, right?
Looking back, I should’ve realized something was up. The Kid was here only a few days, not near long enough for a real feast.
He’s already gone back, and there’s an empty place in my heart to go along with the empty place in my tummy.
I’m missing The Feast and my kid.