The Gift

Jenny zipped up her heavy coat and closed the car door. She took a deep breath. When will that stop hurting, she wondered. The simple, unconscious act of breathing took effort these days. On each inhale, her chest ached, the air was heavy, hard to get inside. She patted her coat pocket to make sure she had tissues, another unconscious habit she’d developed in the past few weeks. But unlike breathing, this one was simple, and a comfort knowing she’d be able to easily wipe her tears on her walk.

 She headed to the trail head and as she had every day for the past two and a half weeks, she said a simple prayer to the universe before starting her walk.

 “May I be well.

May I be at peace.

May I be free from pain.”

When she first started these walks and her prayer, she’d felt silly. She didn’t believe in prayer, or a higher power. But the more she did it, the more she felt like maybe there was something to it. At least she felt like she was doing something. Visualizing a time when she didn’t feel like she wanted to escape her skin, leave her body behind and be free from the emotions it kept stuck inside, she could almost remember the happy.

As she put one foot in front of the other, the memories came. She tried fighting them at first but that was useless, they came anyway, so now she said hello silently and let them play through their reel.

Their wedding day, her white gown dirty at the edges from the grass stains. Him in his tuxedo, smiling like he’d won the lottery. Their friends and family, wishing them well, laughing with them, witnessing their joy, their promises, and their love.

The honeymoon full of a sun they rarely saw because they didn’t leave the hotel much. Sipping a pina colada by the pool - in the evening - while they shared a plate of hotel nachos, him saving the guacamole for her because he knew she loved it.

“I love seeing the sun on your skin, but I can’t wait to see the snow in your hair,” he’d told her that night. He loved winter, loved the snow, and had already planned their winter vacation to Whistler.

The day she came home from a hard day at work to a bouquet of balloons in the living room, takeout from her favorite Italian place on the table and him dressed only in her heart adorned apron with a wine glass in his hand.

His smile.

His laugh.

His hands.

His smell.

He was everywhere now. In her mind, on her heart. Their sheets held his smell, his towel was still on the rack. His lone sock on the bathroom counter, still waiting for its mate. How could he feel so present when he was gone? How was it fair that they’d only had 5 months of marriage? Why did the disease come for him?

She was making use of her tissues when she saw a cardboard box on the side of the trail ahead of her. It was moving. She stopped, wondering if a wild animal was inside. The she heard a whimper. It was a language she understood. One of fear, heartache, and loneliness. She carefully approached the box and looked inside.

Two brown eyes stared up at her amidst a tangle of black fur. The same shade of brown she’d fallen in love with and lost. The tiny body was shivering in the winter cold. It been whimpering but when the puppy looked up and saw her, it let out a yelp and tried to climb the side of the box. A laugh escaped as Jenny watched the small bundle of fur try to get to her. She reached in, carefully and pulled it up. A boy. He was shivering but he licked her face, and she melted.

She looked in the box and saw someone had left a blanket, a small bag of food that was empty and a chew toy. Someone had left this puppy out here alone on purpose. The box hadn’t been her yesterday, so she knew the pup hadn’t been out here too long.  Jenny felt a rage build up - part for humanity for being able to be so callous and horrid and part for the universe for allowing horrible things to happen. 

She put the puppy inside her coat and turned to head back. Cradled in her arms, he immediately fell asleep. 

 He snored. 

 She smiled.

As she unlocked her car and set the sleeping pup inside, turning on the seat warmer and the heater on high, she looked at the trail entrance. She came here because this was where he’d brought her to propose. This day, one year ago. As they’d stood in the middle of the trail, the tall trees their canopy from the winter cold that had come early he’d asked, and she’d said yes. 

She closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. Then she felt it: Snow.

Looking up into the white blind sky she felt it, an inhale that expanded her stomach and chest. A fullness. A peace. 

“I miss you. Thank you for sending the gift,” she whispered, looking through the window at the tiny sleeping joy inside.

She understood, the universe had been listening.