There’s a place in this house I cannot pass without stopping

 There’s a place in this house I cannot pass without stopping.

A place where the collar lies.

It doesn’t jingle anymore.
It doesn’t wrap around your neck as you run free through the yard.
It rests in stillness, holding echoes of a thousand days.

I pick it up sometimes, just to hear the tag ring faintly in my hand.
And suddenly, I’m back—
walking with you through autumn leaves,
hearing you rush to the door,
feeling you press close at night when the world felt heavy.

Now it is quiet.
But that silence is not empty.
It is filled with love, memory, and the bond no collar could ever contain.

Where the collar lies,
my heart bends but does not break.
Because one day, when heaven opens its meadow,
I’ll hear that jingle again—
running, rushing, whole, alive—
as you race to meet me.

Until then, the collar waits.
And so do I.