Monday – A Specter of Leaves
Mar. 22nd, 2010 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
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I keep forgetting the dog is gone. My house is haunted by small, quadrupeds by no-see-‘ems that I catch with the corner of my eye but that disappear when I turn to look at them. I miss the dog, but I’m not sorry she is gone; her lifespan had run its course and it was time for her to go. I began grieving her months before she died. I am open to the idea of a new dog, even, to fill the empty space and for new tags on a collar to jingle and chase away the silence that now follows me from room to room the way the dog used to do.
Maybe a new dog could chase away the no-see-‘ems, too.
The no-see-‘ems walk around the end of the couch when I am in the living room, or duck under the coffee table and disappear. They walk past the kitchen when I am standing at the sink. Mostly, they hang out under the oak tree in the back yard, the one that belongs to my son (or so he believes) because it provides the best shade to play under. I see them out the window, walking around under the oak. The dog used to nap under this oak, even though it belongs to my son. As long as she was lying on the other side from where he liked to play, he was willing to share it.
The oak is peculiar in that it loses its autumn leaves in the spring, when the new leaves push the dead leaves from the previous year off. Other trees in my yard shed their leaves shortly after the leaves die, but not this one. Its branches are never bare; the last dead leaf falls only when the branches are resplendent in bright green infant leaves unfolding to drink in the warmth and sunlight of spring. Only then does the tree let the old leaves drop to the earth, like a tall slender woman slowly letting a winter coat slip off her shoulders to reveal a skimpy green dress underneath.
These brown leaves blow in the wind and I see them from my dining room window. My dog was the color of autumn leaves, too, so it’s understandable that when I see them blow by, for an instant I think it’s the dog looking for a place to lie in the cool green grass beneath the tree. At least until I remember that she is gone. The leaves seem to dart after a squirrel, or move in circles to find just the right spot to come to come to rest. It’s an easy mistake to make, watching these dead leaves move like a living thing. When I look closely I see them for what they are: dead leaves enlivened by the wind. The shadow slipping under the coffee table is just a shadow. The silence that follows me around is just a cold, empty silence like any other (unless you count the way it walks and presses up against legs, which is a strange thing for silence to do).
So I’m not really haunted by a ghost, per se. No, there are perfectly rational explanations for it all: I am haunted leaves, shadows and silence – only these, and nothing more.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
I keep forgetting the dog is gone. My house is haunted by small, quadrupeds by no-see-‘ems that I catch with the corner of my eye but that disappear when I turn to look at them. I miss the dog, but I’m not sorry she is gone; her lifespan had run its course and it was time for her to go. I began grieving her months before she died. I am open to the idea of a new dog, even, to fill the empty space and for new tags on a collar to jingle and chase away the silence that now follows me from room to room the way the dog used to do.
Maybe a new dog could chase away the no-see-‘ems, too.
The no-see-‘ems walk around the end of the couch when I am in the living room, or duck under the coffee table and disappear. They walk past the kitchen when I am standing at the sink. Mostly, they hang out under the oak tree in the back yard, the one that belongs to my son (or so he believes) because it provides the best shade to play under. I see them out the window, walking around under the oak. The dog used to nap under this oak, even though it belongs to my son. As long as she was lying on the other side from where he liked to play, he was willing to share it.
The oak is peculiar in that it loses its autumn leaves in the spring, when the new leaves push the dead leaves from the previous year off. Other trees in my yard shed their leaves shortly after the leaves die, but not this one. Its branches are never bare; the last dead leaf falls only when the branches are resplendent in bright green infant leaves unfolding to drink in the warmth and sunlight of spring. Only then does the tree let the old leaves drop to the earth, like a tall slender woman slowly letting a winter coat slip off her shoulders to reveal a skimpy green dress underneath.
These brown leaves blow in the wind and I see them from my dining room window. My dog was the color of autumn leaves, too, so it’s understandable that when I see them blow by, for an instant I think it’s the dog looking for a place to lie in the cool green grass beneath the tree. At least until I remember that she is gone. The leaves seem to dart after a squirrel, or move in circles to find just the right spot to come to come to rest. It’s an easy mistake to make, watching these dead leaves move like a living thing. When I look closely I see them for what they are: dead leaves enlivened by the wind. The shadow slipping under the coffee table is just a shadow. The silence that follows me around is just a cold, empty silence like any other (unless you count the way it walks and presses up against legs, which is a strange thing for silence to do).
So I’m not really haunted by a ghost, per se. No, there are perfectly rational explanations for it all: I am haunted leaves, shadows and silence – only these, and nothing more.
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no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 01:47 pm (UTC)I'd take her, myself, but I'm not entirely certain we can afford pet care just yet. A Corgi is a little bigger than a Spaniel, but not by much. She's indoor and outdoor trained and she'd be a great companion for E. Just a thought!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 01:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 01:48 pm (UTC)No rush. But don't wait if you need one.
That last line...man. It's the kind of line I would "collect" and save to read again. I love quotations and this line...Wow!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 03:03 pm (UTC)Yeah, once you've had one, they're hard to live without.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 02:59 pm (UTC)Not so often now since she changed out just about all her furniture, repainted walls, bought a new bed and new bedding etc.
I...think she still loves him a lot but it helped her...with the "almost saw him" thing. It's..odd that that happens but makes sense.
It keeps seeming like..he should be there. He just should. He never met my daughter who is his youngest grandchild. And he would have REALLY liked her, I can tell.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-23 03:15 pm (UTC)If you are not the sort to believe in a human soul - that the essence of a person moves on after the body dies - you dismiss this as being your imagination and easily tell yourself not to trust what your own senses. On the other hand, if you are not the sort to call your own senses a liar, who is to say a person doesn't linger or visit after they've made the Big Move. It's always nice to check out the old neighborhood and see how the folks back home are doing. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 12:18 am (UTC)