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blizzard warnings - 13:52 , 03 October 2013

heelerless - 21:32 , 18 August 2013

Red Coat Inn in Fort McLeod - 11:38 , 23 June 2013

rushing into the waters - 09:53 , 21 June 2013

choosing a spot - 17:43 , 27 April 2013

14 March 2007 - 23:40

a scream in the dark

I remember now I had something I wanted to put down here. And I really shouldn't be taking the time tonight, but if I don't, I'll probably lose the memory again.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night. Or, actually, this morning.

To the sound of a young male voice screaming "Noooo!" A voice full of frustration, anguish, and maybe pain.

First thought was that eldest son had just been killed off in one of his video games, and would need to spend hours online to rebuild his character and position.

But the voice was too pained for just a game. No matter how involved he may be.

And then the brain slowly mentioned to me...

That came from below the floor, on our right. Not from outside our door.

Youngest son is home from college, staying in the Green Room.

Directly below me. On my right.

Ooookay. He may be playing online right now, too. I don't know.

But there's that other nagging fear. He is in constant contact with his friends, through texting and, less commonly, email.

And his best friend's either in Iraq right now, or on his way.

What if that pain I heard was real?

I heard his heeler stirring, laying on the cool floor next to me. Now I finally understand why she switched to the floor on my side of the bed this week.

She can hear her boy down below.

Do I go down and see if he's all right? Looking at my watch to see it's a quarter before three?

The masked heeler settled down with a sigh. Whatever we heard below, she's not worried anymore.

So I didn't worry, either. Much. And went back to sleep.

This morning, he had no clue what I was talking about. But no, no text message with horrible news. But no video death either. He has no idea what I'm talking about.

Maybe a terrible dream he had, I wonder?

Discussed this with the wife after lunch, as she drove me home (a semi-complicated tale about us going in to be bled this morning, and me needing to return her vehicle at lunch). She asks if maybe I was the one having a horrible dream.

No, no. I know what I heard. And the heeler heard it, too. I've only heard that sound once before.

I do not want to hear it again.

And her eyes water, because she knows exactly what I'm talking about.

That day over twenty years ago, when I answered the phone, and then walked into the bedroom to tell her...

"Dad died."

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