Soft gray-white limbs spill over my blanket-covered thigh hump. Your breathing eases as you melt, paws open flower-like as I stroke your toe beans. My brain Rolodexes forward, backward, cataloging things that won’t stay done as I fight to stay with this moment. The rasp in your lungs and cough tell a certain story but cannot stop me from conjuring a future with you. I see your ears pricking curiously to new sounds and smells, crouching, anticipating what crackles in the Vermont leaves. You slip deeper into sleep, paws and ears twitching as you chase my dreams for you.
Anna Caldwell writes from her home in Pennsylvania that she shares with her husband, cat, and an ever-growing collection of books. Find Anna on Twitter @alcwriteson.