The lunar eclipse took Rosie.
I felt so sure that what was before the eclipse would stay in the past, and what came after would be on the other side of some chasm, with no going back. Now we’re doing life without our beloved dog, with the excruciating understanding that change takes many forms.
It’s like living in an altered state, the first days after one you love dies.
The last time the sun was just over there sinking behind the winter trees, Rosie was still alive.
The day before, I left a half-filled glass of water on the counter and said a casual goodbye to the dog. The glass is still here, and she’s not.
I feel like all this work sorting for the move has been set back two months. I’m back to wandering this place with no idea what to pick up and what to leave.