Goodbye Langdon Street

Blackie, the Black Lab/Pit Bull mix looks for me. Where are the boxes with the meat and the dog biscuits. They're in my new house, Blackie. Where are you, food lady? I'm faraway baby and I miss you. Why did you leave me? Was I a bad dog? No baby, you are a best dog, a special dog, and I wish you could have come with me. You would have chased and maybe hurt Autumn and Moon, and dug holes in my yard. Then you would have jumped my fence and run around the neighborhood. Trashcans would never be the same and neither would the house. The little hole you made to stick your head out of your doorway would have repeated itself on my screen door. And you belong to someone else. Everybody loves you Blackie. I still love you and all the people who pat you everyday do too. You'll always be in my heart sweetie pie. Even if you really have no idea who I was and that I've gone.
My Japanese Maple stands serene; it knows it's the queen of the lawn. In the Spring, she is glorious. No other tree can challenge her beauty and they don't try. The street is concrete and plain cement. None of the other lawns can compare with the loveliness she gives.
Only Blackie knows I've gone. Maybe the ivy I planted will look for my presence and admiration. I don't miss Langdon Street. There were too many steps and I was too far away from our children. I always yearned for more trees and grass. A single home in the country. Somehow, Harry and I are living in our dream house and it feels like a minor miracle.