The house is strangely silent. There are no jingling dog tags behind me. No crunching of kibble while Little Mister sleeps. No sniffling of the spring air through the windows. No zipping of the dog run.
I no longer have to hold the door open behind me when I step outside. Snapping my fingers after putting Little Mister to bed is no longer a call sign. Rope toys no longer threaten to tangle themselves up in the vacuum.
It’s going to take this homestead a long time to get used to the new normal.
Our darling daughter, co-farmer, and protector lost her year long battle with what we believe to have been cancer.
Rest in peace, Belle. We’ll miss you more than you ever know.
