15/05/2025
sylvia e. cordus
Some say when a beloved pet leaves this world, they don’t just cross the Rainbow Bridge—they become part of the sky itself.
Their love lingers in the golden streaks of sunrise, the hush of twilight, the way the wind nudges a fallen leaf toward you like a gentle nudge from a paw that’s no longer there. They are the unexpected warmth on your pillow where they once slept, the flicker of a shadow in the corner of your eye that feels almost like them.
They watch over you—not as ghosts, but as guardians. When you ache, they send a breeze to dry your tears. When you laugh, they rustle the trees in celebration. And on the days you miss them most, they paint the clouds in colors you can’t name, just to remind you: love doesn’t end; it changes form.
One day, when the time is right, you’ll hear the familiar jingle of a collar you’d know anywhere. You’ll turn, and there they’ll be—no longer a whisper in the wind, but a thunderous joy, barreling toward you with wings folded, ready to run the rest of the way home.
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