I expected you home

 I expected you home.

Not because I had forgotten you were gone...

But because love has its own way of remembering.

Every afternoon, around the same time, I'd find myself listening.

Without thinking.

Without planning to.

My ears would wait for a sound they already knew wasn't coming.

The familiar rhythm of paws crossing the floor.

The gentle shake of your collar.

The quiet little huff you always made before settling beside me.

For one tiny moment...

My heart would believe.

"They're almost here."

Then the silence would answer.

And I would remember.

Again.

It's strange how grief lives in habits.

Not only in tears.

But in the way I still leave a little space beside me on the couch.

In the way I open the front door and glance down before stepping inside.

In the way I still smile when I pass the treat aisle at the store...

Only to feel my chest tighten a second later.

People think healing means those moments disappear.

They don't.

They simply become gentler.

The ache no longer knocks me to the ground.

It sits beside me.

Quiet.

Faithful.

Almost like you used to.

Some evenings, the sunset pours through the windows in long ribbons of gold.

It falls across the floor exactly where you loved to stretch after our walks.

And for just a heartbeat...

The light looks so much like you that I almost whisper,

"Welcome home."

Maybe love creates these little moments on purpose.

Not to make us hurt.

But to remind us that what we shared was real.

Too real to vanish just because time keeps moving.

I like to imagine that where you are now...

There are no closed doors.

No waiting by windows.

No clocks counting the hours.

Only endless green meadows warmed by golden light.

Only gentle streams to splash through.

Only joyful dogs running with strong legs and happy hearts.

And every time you race across those heavenly fields...

I hope you know...

There is still someone here expecting you.

Not because I don't believe you're safe.

But because loving you became the most natural part of coming home.

One day...

When my own journey is finished...

I won't have to imagine the sound of your paws anymore.

I'll hear them.

Fast.

Happy.

Getting closer with every heartbeat.

I'll open one final door...

And this time...

You'll be the one waiting for me.

Tail wagging.

Eyes shining.

As if to say,

"I knew you'd find your way home."

Until then...

I'll keep expecting you in the quiet moments.

Because some loves become so deeply woven into our lives...

That every path home still carries their footsteps.

And somehow...

It always will.