I stood at the fountain in the middle of the park and dropped in a coin. I whispered my wish: Please let him come back to me.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head as if being in a prayerful posture would permit my wish to be granted sooner. I turned from the fountain hoping to see him come running into my arms. It didn’t happen.
Of course it didn’t happen. I hadn’t seen his fleeing as happening either.
Completely blind sighted by his actions, I had stood in this same park, home of the fountain we both held so dear, and called out his name as he left me. There was no warning, no conversation leading up to it, he just left. I ran after him, of course; who wouldn’t? I called out his name, Bruno, over and over and over again. He just kept going.
And here I stood at the fountain, as I had for the past two days since he left me, tossing coin after coin after coin and whispering the same wish with tears in my eyes: Please let him come back to me.
When I closed my eyes to make my wish, I could still see his deep brown eyes that were matched my his deeper brown hair. I could feel his soft skin which was a contrast to the roughness I felt on my skin when he touched me. I could even smell his breath, offensive to most people, but endearing to me as it told of his fondness for fish, anchovies in particular, an unexpected guilty pleasure of his.
I was ashamed to tell my family. They hadn’t been supportive since the day I announced our relationship.
“You don’t need to be saddled with him,” my father had warned me with obvious disdain in his voice.
“He isn’t what you’re looking for, sweetie,” my mother had remarked with that knowing look in her eyes that all mothers possess when their children make hasty decisions.
“He’s cute now – I can see that – but you’ll quickly grow tired of him,” my sister said as if living with her for 18 years had made her an authority on who I am.
I wiped away an escaping tear as my chin quivered and dropped in another coin: Please let him come back to me.
I dropped in another coin and another and another. Each one carrying my wish – my prayer – for his return.
And then I was out of coins.
My shoulders slumped, and I knew. I knew what I had known when he first ran. I knew what I had known when I sat in the park until dark and he didn’t return. I knew what I had known when took the day off work and walked the park from one entrance to another; when I had returned to the fountain that he loved so dearly, hoping to find him standing the midst of the little splashes as if he were the happiest guy on the planet. I knew what I had known when I walked, with my heavy heart, back to the fountain on this cloudy afternoon, the weather and its threatening rain seemed to mimic my mood. I knew that he was gone; there was nothing more I could do to bring him back.
Desperately, I dug for another coin – anything – to make one final wish. I found nothing, but wished anyway: Please let him come back to me.
Then I let my tears flow as the rain that had begun to fall.
I turned and then heard his familiar voice. I spun quickly surveying the park and then I saw him.
My sorrow quickly turned to unspeakable joy, and I called back to him, “Bruno!” He bounded to me and I enveloped him in my arms as he licked my face. Before he had a chance to run again, I quickly attached his leash to his harness. Now that I had him back, I wouldn’t let Bruno run loose again!