I still wait at the gate…

Every single day, I sit in the same spot, facing the same mountain, beneath the same sky.
I don’t understand calendars or clocks.
I only know time by the scent of the wind and the color of the leaves.
But I do know this: she said she’d come back.

She was my whole world — my mother, my comfort, my safety.
I still remember the warmth of her hands, the soft rhythm of her voice, the way she laughed when I tripped over my own paws.
She knelt beside me one day, eyes glassy, and whispered:
“Be a good puppy. I’ll be back soon.”

So I sat at the gate and waited.
At first, with tail wagging and ears perked.
Then, with quiet eyes and slow breaths.
Snow came and melted.
Flowers bloomed and faded.
Leaves danced to the ground, only to be replaced by new green ones.
Still… no sign of her.

Strangers passed. Some kind, some not.
Some gave me scraps, others gave me stares.
But none of them smelled like her.
None of them said my name the way she did.

I heard people say she wasn’t coming back.
That I was foolish.
That I should move on, forget, find a new place to rest.
But how can you move on when your whole heart is still out there —
walking around in someone else’s shoes?

Because when you love someone,
you don’t forget.
You don’t replace.
You wait.

Even if it takes forever.
Even if no one else understands.
Even if hope hurts more than the truth.

This is a story of a dog. But really, it’s a story of love — the kind that doesn’t ask for anything in return.
The kind that stays.
That believes.
That waits.

Some might say dogs don’t understand time.
But perhaps it’s not time we need to understand —
perhaps it’s loyalty.

So if you’ve ever had someone wait for you — with open arms or silent eyes —
don’t make them wait too long.

Because love, no matter how quiet, always stays at the gate.