That night in Christine’s guest room it took me ages to fall
asleep—only Daisy’s canine snores assured me that I was safe. When I did finally drift off, I found
myself in the meadow I could never paint.
Sitting in the grass, leaning back on my hands, I felt the warm sun on
my face. The dragon, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Awake again in the morning, I
felt bereft. Even my dragon had left me.
At breakfast Christine set
a small padded envelope on the table. “I
don’t know if now is the best time,” she told me, “but I promised Rick I would
give you this.”
I recoiled.
“No problem," she said, withdrawing the envelope. "I’ll just hold on to it until you’re ready.”
Silence descended between us. And then I asked, “How was he?”
“Quiet. Unhappy.”
“How often did you see him?”
“Just a couple of times. Daisy
stayed with him while I was with you at the hospital. He didn’t leave until he knew I could take
care of her.”
I almost smiled, thinking about how much Daisy would have
liked that. But then the almost-smile
faded from my face. At least Daisy had
been able to say goodbye.
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