Nighttime used to be our time

 Nighttime used to be our time. You curled at my feet or pressed your warm body against my side, breathing softly as the world grew quiet. Now, when the lights go out, the emptiness grows louder than ever.

But in my dreams, something beautiful happens.

I see you running through fields of light, paws leaving glowing prints across starry grass. You bound toward me, tail wagging, eyes bright, body whole and free. I feel your fur again, warm under my hands. I hear the sound of your joyful bark echoing like music across the sky.

Sometimes you just sit with me. Sometimes we walk together, side by side, without speaking—just being. And in those dreams, there’s no grief, no pain. Just love.

When I wake, tears fill my eyes, but there’s comfort too. Because I know, for a little while each night, we’re together again. Your pawprints may no longer press into earth, but they press into my dreams, guiding me through the dark.

Someday, I believe those dreams will open into reality—into the meadow where you truly wait. Until then, I’ll close my eyes each night and follow the pawprints in my dreams back to you.