Ashes in small velvet bags, lined up on a shelf.
Some candles. Other trinkets. Favorite toys.
Their last collars.
It used to be that I could walk past that shelf without reaching up, smiling, and saying “I miss you.”
From tears… to a smile… now I just walk past, barely notice as I’m vacuuming.
Dusting makes me lift each object, each treasure, wipe the dust from underneath.
This was her collar, stars and moons.
This was his catnip rainbow.
This was the candle she burnt her whiskers on.
Spray a cloth, wipe. Reflect and remember.
Thank goodness for the dust.
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In time, the sadness of constant reminders will slow. It’s not easy, but it does happen… in time.
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