The washing machine is running and I'm crying. Doesn't go together, does it? (I think I mentioned crying in my last post. A trend?)This is a special load. I am washing the sweats that I wore when, sitting on the floor of the vet's examination room, I held Rondo for the last time.
They've been sitting in a corner of my closet since March. Something couldn't let me wash away that living trace of him. I couldn't see it. I couldn't smell it, but he was there, and I remember that time. I have the box with his collar, his paw print, a piece of his fur, but there was a closer connection with this.
Maybe I'm moving on. I miss my sweet, brown boy. I'll always remember our short time together, but it's time to wear the clothes while I'm playing with Caprice and Canon, to have some good times. To keep the bittersweet memories and to make new ones.
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