I stepped outside yesterday evening and allowed the
warm coming-of-spring breeze lift my shirt and tickle my arms. The air smelled of pine and old grass.
I watched one of my cats slowly walk out against the
tawny expanse of prairie.
I counted the low clouds: seven.
No bird sounds.
No deer.
When I turned to go back inside, I realized that I
had left the door open…the house so very quiet.
Two years ago, I might have walked back inside and found my sweet wife
sitting in that chair I never learned to like (but have saved and not sat in
since her passing).
I entered the empty house and allowed the door to
remain open for another hour.
--Mitchell
Hegman
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