When I got back to the room, mum had resumed her position sitting with Gran and was holding her hand. I gestured to her that I was in the room and took my place on the other side of Gran in a chair. I picked up her hand. There we were. Mom holding her right hand and me holding her left hand. Gran was still out like a light, but I felt suddenly safer and warmer. I knew somehow that Gran knew we were both there. I looked over at mum and whispered, "I think she knows we are here" Mom whispered back, "I think you are right." She smiled at me that warm smile she does when she is tired and content. We sat like that for what seemed like hours. I sat until I could sit no longer and told mom I was going outside for a walk. I reminded her to text me if she needed me or if Gran woke up. She smiled and nodded. I left.

I found myself walking for a long while. I ended up in Centennial Park. It is one of my favorite parks in Nashville. With 132 acres, it is my favorite walking park. I love visiting the Parthenon every time I am in Nashville and Lake Watauga. When I am bored, I often will visit the Centennial Art Center. My favorite space is the sunken garden, but I had spent many hours at the bandshell and the exercise trail. It felt for my mum since I pretty much I lived there when music festivals were in town. I visited the dog park just about every week when pup was alive. It was hard walking by the dog park. The memory of pup made me start crying. He was the greatest mutt ever. Mom was frustrated that I never named him. He was always just pup to me. He didn't need another name. Pup was enough. Pup was a very small furry mess. All of nine pounds wet. He was completely black except for a small patch on his chest that was pure white. It looked like he wore a tuxedo.

There never existed feet he did not want to lick. It was kind of gross when I came home and took off my smelly shoes, and he went to town on my very gross toes. I could not resist disgusting mum; she loudly protested how unhygienic I was being. Dad had given me pup before he died. That was 12 years ago. I was seven. Pup died last year. I still was not over it. I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye every time I visited familiar places we went together. It was just my memory playing tricks on me. Sometimes though I wished it was true, that pup was back with me. This park brought the memories back again, and within ten minutes, there he was. I pretended not to notice pup, but my melancholy was just too much to deny how much I had missed him. His specter came up to me, and I leaned down to pet him. He wasn't there, but I did not care. I was so alone at that moment. It was good enough. When I reached out my hand, it went right through him. His ghostly presence licked my foot as he always used to do when he was alive. I accepted his sweet nature and walked down the path with him trailing behind me. The week had been too rough and if I had a ghost dog, well, so be it.