Today started as a weary thing, dull and dragging its feet through my hours, until your image found me.
There you were, curled in a kingdom of leaves with morning sunlight filtering through. Such a blessing. Your small body is at ease with the world again as you lift one paw, mid-story, that’s just you pausing between mischief and rest, a little sovereign in repose.
My dearest Tiger, you have grown. Not just in size, but in spirit, your once fragile form now restored, your wound no longer making me worry, it’s now a memory your furry body has outlived.
And I, although miles away from you, held together by just photographs, I feel so much warmth in my heart. I feel light. Because there you are in the photo, alive in your simple, untroubled way, stretching into the day like nothing had ever dared to harm you.
My little lion, they said, and they were right. For what is a lion, if not a creature that survives, heals, and returns to the sun like it had always belonged there?
I thought of you in my wake, I miss you each passing day, and getting photos of you today healed something in me and made my day which started rough, bearable.
