Salvador’s Home Coming
Written by: Ivy Rose Marsh
Slowly extracting him from the big, plastic bin we brought
where I collected his bones from internment
from the place that was once mine
but is no longer.
Home now.
From the place of “broken dreams”
and isolation and devastation
and healing.
We brought the bin,
not knowing what we would find
in the wooden box where he had lain
for 5 years.
We were so happy that he made it that far.
We thought he would die before he could join us
in the new landscape.
But join us he did!
and loved it all
but especially
the cows.
In his old age, he would disappear
behind the chickenwire fence.
In a slight panic, I would go to find him.
I will never forget,
him sitting peacefully amongst the cows
observing them
like he was meant for them.
Their guardian Shepard.
I longed for him
and his bones,
As I had longed for his rough sandy coat
when alive.
Once someone said,
“Funny you named him Salvador, ‘Savior’
when it is you who have saved him.”
but I knew he was mine.
My Salvador, my Savior.
It was a pilgrimage of sorts, retrieving him.
The place I fled
and loved.
Now I extracted his bones from the bin.
This new land.
We sat under a large wind chime.
The sound of the bells flooding the air
tolling his return.
One by one,
I placed his bones into a wicker box
pausing with each, to remember him.
I am struck now by a memory
I am in 8th grade
I have a box of odd cups and glasses I am collecting from thrift stores
for the time I will move away.
It is hidden under my bed.
When someone comes over
I remove the box and proudly share my treasures.
I am sharing
my love, my hope, my innocence.
I now imagine removing the box,
the box of his bones,
and sharing my love, my hope
and my innocence
with anyone who will witness.
He is home now, with me
so there is nothing-
no excuse, no deflection,
to keep me from coming home
too.
