From the Continuation of Spaces

a writing by Adeosun Olamide Ayo

I remember, I remember the first, our first dog. Was one that loved us more, than we loved her. Always waited for us, for our arrival, some nights, we came in late, very late, tis there, waiting to welcome us. Some nights, we forgot or was tired to feed her, and some nights, left her out in the cold… she’d stay in the flowers and wait for us in the morning… beaming and running, running into our feet’s.

She shared our moods.

One night we got back home and she wasn’t there. That night we searched for her, for a while and soon retired from it. I think before that night, we thought she found love elsewhere…. and that night we thought so again.

Morning came, and still, we hadn’t seen her. I remember I was in my uniform, outside, almost late for school, when the ‘help’ came running towards, ‘she died’ the help said. I followed her, my cousin too… The dog was without life, the tongue was out, she was stiff, wrapped in them flowers… was it the cold? Was she cold? Could we have saved her, had we searched a little more the night before? We were all sad, and I wept. Myself and others.

The love and the affection she had shared the little time, the time we had her…and how her presence had become the important few fragments of our night, our lives. I didn’t touch her, I didn’t, I remained in the distance and wept from…she deserved all of the tears I had…and the tears, they came as she was wrapped up…she didn’t respond, she didn’t respond to the pain we felt, she stayed, there, she stayed there, gone, not returning to cheer up.

That was what we wanted, to be cheered or loved, what we desire from a relationship, why we sometimes mourn… we mourn at the joy once derived, the spaces once filled…

We didn’t think what more than tears we could give, it was all we had, an outpour of grief, a terrible morning, and why? She earned it…but was she equally sad, had she been? Did she know it will be because of her we would be sad? Had she thought, all of the joy she had brought may be summed in how we felt that morning… had she thought and so died too with her beauty and warmth?

So we wrapped her up and threw her upon some refuse dump, we gave her no reverence, we treated her as we would, a used clothe or shoe…we gave her to the flies…this one that has loved us…and as I went to school that morning, though my heart sank a little, the tears stopped, and in the evening, we came home to her absence… there wasn’t much tears… days passed, years passed and tonight, from where she was buried within me, she exhaled, and brought a tear.

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