"Kishmish is back.
It's one of those Biblical moments. Kishmish is our dog and she came to us nine months ago, from a local shelter called Friendicoes. As is the case with most relationships, the reaction to her went from ecstatic cooing to slight smiles to 'will you STOP peeing on the carpet.' All except in the case of my daughter Aalia, who has, on several occasions, clearly stated that she loves Kishmish (Hindi for 'raisin' - her colouring) more than her parents.
Almost a week ago, she disappeared. And since then, we have all been stumbling into or walking awkwardly around the big hole in the house.
Everyone, especially our maid, had their own conspiracy theory - attacked by the big kids down the lane, kidnapped, silenced, experimented upon - dark alleys I did not want to dwell on.
This morning, she came back. Apparently, as I thought, she had been hanging around the neighbourhood and seems none the worse for 6 days on the mean streets.
I'm off to get a new collar."
I have borrowed this little story from a blog posted by a friend nearly two years ago. I understand about stumbling into and walking around a big hole in the house. But my little one is never coming back. So starting tomorrow, I will place a new flower into a vase in my room every week, in memory of her.
In my heart and in my soul I know that she hasn't really gone away.
2 comments:
The hole to is not a physical vaccum. It is an inner emptiness, a gnawing in the heart. May the flower bestow on you joyous feelings of her presence.
lynn,
am a regular here but never got around to commenting. cudnt stop myself today.
i think some holes just go way deep to be filled. read this blog on a day when i saw a splendid film by bunuel 'au hasard balthazar'. its a story of a donkey & the occasional kindness & frequent cruelty he finds in life.
i pray that u may carry ur little one with u - forever.
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