Earhart, named for Amelia because you seemed fearless at first, ignoring the sonic booms from fighter jets overhead.

I called you Earhart, Sweetheart, Sweetie, Sweetie Pie. When you went you left a hole in my heart that will never be filled. I kept your collar, your tags, hung them on the wall with your picture, just one of the shrines that recall you to us.

I couldn’t replace you, so didn’t try. But the emptiness needed filling, so we brought home Rolo—to have and to love, but only to hide the shape of the hole, never to expand and fill the whole. I knew my need for you would still leak through at the edges. I wasn’t wrong.

But love is magical and infinite, always grows, always expands. Rolo built a new space in my heart, next to the leaky hole I couldn’t and wouldn’t fill. Continue reading →