This is sometimes a difficult topic for me. I've always been a homebody, I've always been the kind of person who would rather stay in then go out. But what do you do when your home isn't there anymore? What do you do when it's all taken away from you?
Five years. It's taken five years for me to finally come to terms with the loss of our home. It's take five years for me to settle into a new home, this time with husband and son.
I still feel like there's something missing at times. I think it's the Sadie shaped hole in my heart, left by a little dog who loved so much and took nothing for herself. When her home was burning she ran into it, to find comfort in the nook of a pantry she liked to wander into, and there she stayed.
It breaks my heart, still. It breaks my heart to think of her being betrayed by her home. I used to call her beautiful, instead of her name. She came to it better. She would wait by the door and just leap, feet higher than she should have been able to. When I left for college, for those five weeks, she walked around the house looking for me every night before settling into bed. When I would come home to visit she wouldn't leave my side.
And that's the problem. She was part of my home. Now I have Anthony and Paul and our space, but I don't have her, and I miss it. I miss wet noses and soft fur. I miss nervous potty wiggles and leaps and bounds. I miss everything about her.
It's hard to write about, still. It's hard to think about. There are things I do for her, as a tribute. I named the main character of my book after her. I remember her in moments when I'm sad or happy. I write her name on the corners of pages. I wrap myself in the blanket that was hers.
Sometimes I feel silly. She was a dog, after all. I should be grateful that no one was hurt, that no one died. But she died, and my life has never been the same since. My only solace is knowing that in her final moments she wasn't alone, that God cares for all His creatures, and that Christ was with her. She wasn't frightened, she wouldn't have been. And she now she's home, in our real home. I'll get to see her again someday.
I miss you, beautiful.