The Sting of Loss

I huddle up in my old purple sweatshirt in the early morning chill, window wide open to let in the spring air as the birds tweet away, fan humming in its endless circles, never going anywhere but ever blowing the day around, and around, laptop where it belongs, on my lap, and ouch. The sting of loss. Day after day, I sidled up with my laptop, my Bible, my steaming oatmeal in thermal cups beside me, my sweet blessing of a dog on the other side. Jake. Even as he marched on toward heaven as bone...