One window 3 pairs of eyes

Real time

Today is rainy.  Like a lot of fall days the air is thick with moisture. The blinds in the front picture window are slightly askew letting the gloomy day pour through. It has been weeks since I’d opened the shades up to let the natural light shine in.  Somehow keeping them shut made me feel as if I were keeping the world at bay.  As if that tiny barrier could somehow block out the ache my heart has felt.  Hell, who am I kidding… the ache we’ve all been feeling over the past month and a half.

As if…

The day she walked out of our lives was a day I won’t soon forget. The anger, the hurt, the confusion still sometimes feel so damn fresh… as if it weren’t weeks ago at all, it can feel like minutes, seconds that just recently passed by.  When she first left I kept the blinds in the big picture window at the front of the house open.  The simple gesture a small branch of hope that maybe, just maybe she’d return.  My head knew the reality, but my heart still beat for her.  Often I’d curl up in the rounded chair across the room from that big window and watch the sunlight dance onto the faded polish of the old wooden floor.

I would lose track of time, quietly lost in thought… time meant nothing to me.  I knew when 3pm was approaching. One by  one I’d watch my dogs jump onto the couch to take up their spots. Three in the afternoon the hour the girl who has owned my heart for the last two years used to come home to us.  She’d round the corner of what was once our street and pull into the driveway of what I considered our home.  Each time setting off a sea of excitement from the furry companions who waited patiently for her in that big picture window.

I never had to set a clock or watch, they always seemed to know.  Almost as if they have some built in alarm that reminds them she should be coming home soon.

For weeks after she left never to return to us again, I watched as 3 pairs of anxious eyes peered out into the empty drive.  Soft whines escaping the confines of their chests, almost as if they felt the sadness. Almost as if they understood their waiting would be in vain. Still they sat, heads perched against pillows, wet noses pressed firmly against the cool glass. Tails and bodies held in stillness… watching, waiting…

Waiting.

I’d sit across the room in the lone chair watching them, feeling my own heart break with profound sadness.  I wish I knew how to tell them there was no point in waiting, that she’d made her choice and we weren’t for her anymore.  How to make them see it was pointless.

Loyal.

They’d never understand how not to be loyal. Hell… I didn’t understand it myself. We sat there in silence everyday watching and waiting. Tears would pool quietly in my eyes, their heavy weight finally causing them to slide slowly down my cheeks.  When I could no longer bare the ache I’d move across the room to join them. My fingers running gently over their heads and through soft tufts of fur. Their eyes would shift to my own, as if asking why… why she wouldn’t be coming back.  Oh how I wish I knew how to tell them, wish I knew how to explain there was no longer anyone to wait for. The other part of their family had walked away without a backwards glance. I’d feel my body give way to tremors as I sat among them, my wistful eyes much like their own, glued to the street hoping to see her car come around the corner. In the beginning sobs would escape my chest, tears cascading down my cheeks. The emptiness over taking me, emptiness I couldn’t explain to the 3 pairs of hopeful eyes waiting in the window for our beloved.

Sometimes I would close the blinds hours before 3PM. All with the hope that they’d forget, with the hope that they’d somehow move on faster.  To no avail.  Like diligent soldiers they’d climb onto the couch and whine, begging me to open the blinds to let them watch for her.  They’d wait for an hour, sometimes two.  One by one they’d lay down as if defeated and rest their heads against their paws. I knew their pain, I knew their loyalty.

On the nice days I’d take them for a play date hoping to distract us from the missing piece of what had been our family for the past 2 years. Exhausted from their fun we’d come home. The moment the front door was opened they’d charge through, a search party of fur as they’d roam the house looking for her. The hollow walls would echo their slowing footsteps as their search slowed, and finally it would end. Their soulful eyes catching my own in sadness.

I knew this was a healing process that couldn’t be forced. They needed to mourn the loss of a pack member, her leftover things causing confusion to their tiny loyal hearts.

Weeks have passed since she has stepped through the old door of my home. The big window over looking the front yard finally stands open and most days at three o’clock the big picture window is empty… but sometimes without warning I watch three diligent soldiers climb onto the couch, find their spots, and press their wet noses to the cold glass.

Waiting.

I no longer watch from across the room. I join them on that old and torn up couch. The eyes that wistfully peer out no longer hold heart break.  Still they watch quietly almost not quite sure what or who they’re waiting for.  We simply sit there more out of habit perhaps… but I know deep down that isn’t why we sit there… the truth is so much more heart wrenching.

We have yet to figure out how to un train our loyal hearts.