Sometimes I close my eyes and I’m not here anymore

 Sometimes I close my eyes and I’m not here anymore.

I’m back there.
Back in the little moments that made life feel whole.
The quiet mornings when you curled up beside me, tail tucked close, breathing softly.
The afternoons spent wandering through familiar parks, chasing leaves or sunlight together.
The evenings when your warmth pressed against me as if to say, “Everything will be okay.”
Time moves forward, but in my heart, I can still step back into those days.
They haven’t faded.
They live inside me like a secret no one else can see.
I still hear your footsteps.
Not really, of course.
But in memories, in dreams, in the sudden ache that rises without warning—I can feel you near.
I still smell your fur in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
I still imagine your joyful eyes and happy tail wagging at the sound of my voice.
Those little things that seemed ordinary then now feel like treasures I carry everywhere.
Even now, I sometimes pause mid-step, as if expecting to see you bounding across the room.
And in those moments, I am back there.
Back in a world where nothing else mattered except that we were together.
Even though I have to live in the present.
Even though the rooms are quieter.
Even though the sun rises without you here.
You are still there.
In the corners of my mind.
In the softness of memory.
In the warmth that lingers on my heart.
I’m still back there.
And that is where I find you every time.
Forever loved.
Forever remembered.
Forever part of the place I carry inside me.