That Full Day
That morning you came to my apt. for our usual tea and pastries. You felt comfortable there. You were at home and more relaxed than in your own place, which was twice as big as mine. I loved your apt. It had a great view and a great big balcony. But you were ill and did not feel like cleaning it. It was filthy. You, once an important lady, a big time executive, now lived in squalor with 3 hungry dogs. I did what I could to clean your apt. Maybe I didn’t do enough. When you came to my place, you did the dishes and cleaned the marble counter top.
I remember well your last full morning on planet Earth. After the tea, you helped me straighten out the curtains in the living room. You stood on a chair and I called a neighbor to help us so you wouldn’t fall. I can see your bare ankles, the baggy pants and the dirty beat up sneakers you wore that day. The curtains were safe again and the neighbor stayed for a little bit. Then she and you left. I saw you once more that night. You came at around 10 with your black dog, my other special friend. There was something that you wanted. I think it must have been comfort. I tried to give it to you. Again, maybe it wasn’t enough. The fire took your life and the lives of two of the dogs. You fought bravely, you yelled for help. It came too late.