The Road Also Rises
The man stood in his front yard. He was barefoot and it was late. The grass was cool and wet beneath his feet and the sky above him was clear and filled with stars.
In one hand he held a glass of wine and with the other he stroked the ear of a dog too old to stand.
The dog could no longer feel the cool, wet grass beneath her feet. She felt nothing where grass should be, but she could feel the man and she leaned against him accordingly. They stood there beneath the stars saying nothing in the night and being loved by one another.
And there was a song in the distance where a train should be.
The man stood in his front yard with the old dog against his side and he watched each passing car, willing it to turn down his street. The old dog could no longer see the cars but she could see the road and she knew how it could leave her lonesome.
The old dog stood against the man where her boy used to be and she felt the scratch of his fingers against her ear grown quiet. The man thought that the old dog was due for a bath.
Headlights turned onto the street and the old dog whimpered as the man lifted her up the stairs and placed her on her bed.
The man ran to the car now parked in the drive and his eyes met the woman’s as they each lifted a sleeping child and carried them from the night. The old dog wagged her tail beneath a clear sky filled with stars as ankles passed her by. She fell asleep accordingly.
And there was a quiet in the distance where a song should be.
Originally published on WhitHonea
Photo courtesy of WhitHonea