The Memory Beneath the Bed

Watching her dance with joy, he clenches his mind tightly and vows to hold onto this moment. He reminds himself that the day will come when she’s no longer here and he will want to take the memory out like a cherished amulet carried in his pocket and feel its beauty in his hand.

And then, inevitably, she is gone.  Because life distracted him and he forgotten to pay attention, to appreciate her devotion and reward it with his grateful touch, he was taken by surprise by her departure.  Alone, he walks paths they once walked together and he tries to conjure up her presence.  He reaches into the pocket of his mind, but all he finds is a void filled with nothing but lint.

It seems that she was always there, a part of his life for so long.  Learning to “be” without her seems impossible. He expects her to come around the next corner, breaking into a big smile when she sees him.  He sees her out of the corner of his mind, and turns to find emptiness.  

Eventually he forgets to look for her. He's on his hands and knees one day, looking under the bed chair for a missing sock and thinking that he can’t blame her for losing this one.  When he shines his flashlight into the darkness under the bed, he doesn’t see the sock.  Instead, the beam catches sight of one perfect brown curl of hair, laying on the carpet.  Suddenly his mind unclenches and she is there, dancing with joy, and slurping moist doggy kisses all over his face.