Member-only story
The Weather
A Poem
I don’t remember my father crying when
we lost our dog Buddy. It was a time
swallowed into obscurity. But I remember
it was winter, and that spring never came.
I don’t remember going outside those weeks after.
Although I woke a few times thinking
Buddy needed to go out. but then…
The heat surprised everyone. One morning we were
wearing knit caps and down coats and by
3 pm we were sweating in the sun.
Some things you forget, like checking
the weather, if you should layer up or not.
And things you don’t forget: Me crying in the
shower. My mother’s sobs through
the walls of the bedroom. My father coming
home from the vet without him —
holding his collar and leash, the only proof that
he existed. I heard my father take the stairs
up to the bedroom. Carefully closed doors.
The heater sighing through vents. The wind
outside. Our house never sounded the same.
Sometimes we wait in separate rooms
to hear the walls settle when the heat shuts
off. The wind retires, finally. And when
the house has nothing else to say, our footsteps
remain the only bearings we have of each other.
