Storm Watcher
Unable to sleep, I check on Molly. Her small body huddles under the covers, dark lashes framing her peaceful face and Pooh bear tucked under her arm. I want to touch her soft curls and smell her breath, proof of her vitality. Ever since the accident, this vigil gives me comfort. That day began like any other. Dash, our Shepard mix, woke me with urgent pokes and when I didn’t respond, resorted to licking my feet. If only the dog could brew coffee and bring me the first cup. Thinking of the busy day ahead, I groaned, eyed the bright digits on my bedside clock and threw back the duvet. I saw Sam’s note: “I’ll pick you up at the office. Call your sister.” She had called three times without leaving a message, and I hoped for Sam’s sake, she wasn’t canceling. He’d planned a getaway to the coast and my sister was supposed to watch Molly.