Fall has come early for us, quickly following the summer-that-never-was, but it is being a kinder season than summer was to us. Today is one of those days of deep blue skies and a hearty, penetrating sun. The air is dry, and there is a touch of coolness. The furry, heavy bumble bees, a miracle that they can fly on those small wings, are buzzing around the leggy, grizzled summer flowers which are winding down for the season.
It makes me pause.
I think about what I will miss about this house if (when) we do sell it and move. Not a lot comes to mind, I feel so ready (although I am sure I will be surprised at the things I will miss when the time does come!). But today, as I was sitting on my back porch step, the cement warm in the sun, I realized something I would miss so much, it made my heart ache.
Today was the kind of day my dog would have loved. Sleeping in the sun on these intensely sunny days was one of his favorite things. I would sit on those same steps, and he would be quiet and sleepy. He would come by me for a scratch and a hug. He'd lean on me and we'd sit and soak up the sun together, as if storing it for the long winter ahead. His fur would be so warm and soft, a comfort to me who feels a chill so easily, especially as the season changes.
In our new house, there will not be Buster's favorite spots. The places I could picture him sleeping, or just being. My tangible memories, they stay with the house when we move on. The cement steps in back, the corner of grass in the yard. The spot in front of the steps to the second floor. They will stay here. His ghost-memories will float through this house for another family, a family that won't even know he was ever here.