My heart still leans back

 My heart still leans back.

Back toward the days when you were here.

Back toward the sound of your paws moving through the house.

Back toward the warmth of your body curled beside me, as though you had always known exactly where I needed you most.

Life keeps asking me to move forward.

Morning still arrives.

The seasons still change.

People still talk about tomorrow as if tomorrow is an easy place to reach.

But some part of me is always turning around.

Always looking toward the life we had.

I pass the place where your bed used to be, and my heart leans back.

I find one of your hairs on an old blanket, and suddenly I am there again… running my hand over your fur, listening to your slow breathing, believing we still had more time.

That is the cruel thing about memory.

It can bring you so close that I almost forget the distance.

For one second, I can feel your head beneath my hand.

I can hear your collar softly jingling as you follow me into the kitchen.

I can see your eyes watching me with that steady love that never asked me to be anything other than yours.

Then the moment fades.

And I am standing in the present again.

Without you.

People say healing means moving on, but I do not think my heart knows how to move in a straight line.

It moves forward, then backward.

It carries me through the day, then pulls me toward an old photograph at night.

It lets me laugh, then aches when I realize you are not here to hear it.

Maybe that is not failure.

Maybe that is simply what love does when it has nowhere physical to go.

It leans toward what it remembers.

Toward the empty side of the couch.

Toward the leash still hanging by the door.

Toward the quiet corner where you once slept in a patch of afternoon sun.

And still… I am learning that looking back does not mean I am lost.

You are behind me, yes.

But you are also within me.

In every gentle thing I do.

In the patience you taught me.

In the way I still pause for sunsets, because you always made ordinary moments feel worth staying for.

Maybe one day my heart will lean back without breaking.

Maybe memory will feel more like warmth than a wound.

Until then, I will let it turn toward you when it needs to.

Because love does not forget the road home.

And if my heart keeps leaning back, perhaps it is because some part of you is still there…

waiting in the golden light, watching me continue, loving me from just beyond the place I can see.