under the magnolia tree

The dog asked the cat if it was nice under the magnolia tree. She was uncomfortable. It gets better. It's a big change to be here, but it's not so bad. Being a watcher. The dog could see better than she had in years. That happens. The body falls away and the spirit senses take over and expand. She watched her body flow away into the trees roots and up to the leaves. Visibly the tree grew stronger. I made that tree what it is today. You get to make it what it is tomorrow. She wanted to know if she would be here forever. Impossible to stay. I haven't been here forever yet, so how could I really know? What did the cat think, though? It's nice under the tree. I wish my girl would sit next to me though. She stares, remembers. Sometimes she cries. Or smiles. I just would like her to sit here. She doesn't have to talk to me or do anything really. Just sit. Be near me. The dog wanted to move and run and swim and... It takes time, but you will get used to the waiting. I'm happy to have the company though. The quiet and the solitude are the hardest. So if this is forever, it is forever with me. The dog thought that would be fine. Good. Now, watch your first sunset. You won't want to miss these.

Before she could ask, the sun splintered into thousands of grains of light, playing and toying with the objects of the yard. The sand passed through the dog, the cat, the earth and laughed its journey home. Yes, these would be the highlights of her waiting, of her death. An adequate replacement for her beating heart and the hand of her human petting her. An adequate way mark the time.

My dog had a stroke two nights ago, and my parents had to put her to sleep yesterday. She was 15 years old. They buried her next to my cat. I miss them both.