Remember
By Clara
“Hey, girl.”
I’m sitting by Maude’s head as she lays asleep on the cool tile of
the front porch, stretched out in the shadiest corner to escape the
summer sunshine. She wakes up at the sound of my voice,
yawning and blinking and wagging her tail as if to say, I thought
you had forgotten me! After a minute she rises to her feet,
stretches, and vigorously shakes her whole body. She steps over
to me, tail wagging in joyful greeting, and licks my hands and arms
as I rub her ears and slip a leash over her head.
We descend the brick steps together, past the fragrant flowers
that line the patio and into the yard exploding with greenery after
the recent rain. Maude sniffs and inspects anything and everything
with immense curiosity and energy, stopping only long enough to
take a drink from the garden hose.
Maude trots slightly ahead of me as we begin our walk. The sun
has just started to set, and it’s pale rays wash over us as we pass
the goat’s pen and hear the sound of their contented chewing.
The path ahead of me is worn smooth by the tires of countless
cars that have rumbled to and from the farm over the years,
smoothing and pounding the dry earth. The grass is tall on both
sides of the smooth path, and I can hear the low hum of cicadas
all around me, warming up for their evening symphony. The
familiar sound of their song is something that I’ve heard every
summer night for as long as I can remember.