My Love
At night, I used to read him Enid Blyton
At night, I used to read him Enid Blyton. We would settle down in bed. I used to take out the one we had been reading from the pile on the floor. Most of them tattered, none new. My mother used to bring a new one for us from her own collection every time she came.
In the morning, we had breakfast in the garden before we went on walks in the forest. He loved it when we walked barefoot. I think he loved the wet floor of the woods. My feet would get cut by a stray twig or sharp rock. But he would kick in glee, so I went on. I enjoyed the sun that filtered through the canopy.
I used to hold him when we sat after the walk. There was comfort in his heartbeat matching the rhythm of mine.
When he slept in the noon, I would prepare us lunch without spices. He didn't like any and got cranky when I tried to feed him my red passata once. It was my favorite.
There was much he didn't like. The sound of thunder, mussels, and loud television. I had given up on watching my cooking shows soon. I used to enjoy them. The hosts were fun with their antics, more entertaining than skilled at their job.
But there were many things he found joy in. My father used to bring their mutt along on their weekly visits. He got elated whenever the great mastiff licked him. His favorite thing in the world was my mother's panzanella. She made it with too many tomatoes and drenched it in more seasoning than required. I think it was the olive oil that he preferred. He used to dance around me whenever we ate that salad. The whole table laughed at his antics. He also loved our evenings. We sat and talked for hours. I spoke, and he listened. I always had a smile on my face as we gently swayed in the swing.
I took it down when he left.
Why did he leave? I had waited for him for so long. I wailed for him when they took him away as soon as he was out in the world. I have the memory. It is hazy. Too much blood, too much pain, and a little hope. I had strained my ears to hear his cry. The room was silent except for my screams and their panic.
It is better if you don't meet him, everyone told me.
Mother stayed with me for a month. I laid in the garden facing the woods. The sun kept me warm. The forest called out to me. I walked barefoot. I knew he would be there.
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