Just a Sunday morning. Like so many.
Pilot is living her 14th year. I hope for a whole lotta Sunday mornings, but know there won't be years of them.
I can't bear to think that our time together is evaporating.
In the cool air, next to the damp ground, both of us looking up taking in the tall trees, I sat thinking it would be a few moments. But then Pi quietly came up behind me, chose a spot a little more than an arm's length away, and sat.
And so, we sat. Soaking up peace.
Savoring the moment. Stretching time.
Something pulled at my heart and told my soul to stay.
Dear Pilot please stay. If only you could. Always.