Today is one week. And it isn’t like I haven’t left my house.

I have been out – many times, doing many things.

Just always getting into my car in my garage – then pulling out of my driveway and heading away.

But today I walked. Out of my front door into my cul-de-sac to the corner to finally go to the mailbox to pick up all the mail.

Since it happened.

I instinctively looked down to my right, where every day for 15 years the cutest little white powder puff would be “strutting her stuff.”

I haven’t walked this walk without her and it felt all wrong. Almost as if a part of me had  been torn away where her leash would be.

I wanted to say out loud the things I would always say to her as we would walk, like “Who’s the best girl?”

I took a deep breath. Said her name.

First times are always the hardest. I will try to remember that she walks with me still.