Pack up your Sorrows

           Miles harrumphed, which sounded like the sound a donkey makes when they want their morning hay, and said, “Quite right, and no surprise. I always told Harold you were exceptional.”

            Miss Kitty smiled, a wide and glorious smile that exposed her beautiful teeth.

            “Besides which,” Miles said, “we have important matters to discuss, and face-to-face communication is always more reliable, more efficient, and more proper for such interactions.”

            “Quite right,” Miss Kitty echoed.

            “I have to pack up my sorrows and begin a new adventure,” Miles said.

            Miss Kitty’s smile evaporated; her lips became drawn, like the line on a dry-erase board.

            “I need to go home,” Miles said. “To Yorkshire.”

            Miss Kitty sat down on the steps leading to Harold’s room in the attic. Tears appeared on her cheeks like freckles, and her sobs soon turned into hiccups.

            Miles climbed down the table and limped over to Miss Kitty.

            “Harold taught me about forgiveness,” Miles said, looking up into Miss Kitty’s eyes. “I have a brother I need to make amends to, and me mum, well, I’m feeling mighty old, and she’s probably feeling even older. It’s time for me to stop running. You do understand, don’t you, Miss Kitty?”

            Miss Kitty scooped Miles up and placed him on her lap. “Of course, Miles. I do understand. But I will miss you, and I haven’t come to terms with missing Harold, and I expected bright lights or angels or something. You know?”

            “Miss Kitty, I can assure you that Harold has found peace, and I like to believe that he is with his lovely Lilith. You will always carry a piece of Harold in your heart, and so, he will always be with you, hmm.”
            Miss Kitty had been forced to confront Harold's death, and at least had some time to prepare for his departure. And she had secretly counted on having Miles around to help her trudge through the grieving process.

            “But I miss him. And now, I'll miss you. What am I going to do without my musical boys?"
             Miles scratched his ear. His tail twitched and acted like a snake in heat, so Miles grabbed the tip. "I'll text you every day, Miss Kitty."
            "But what about you, Miles?" Miss Kitty said, stifling a scream that perched in the back of her throat like a rock.  "Will you come back?”

            Miles smiled. “Oh yes, I plan on returning, Miss Kitty. Harold and I have set it up so that when I return, I’ll be able to run in this field with Miss Patches. The cabin is yours, Miss Kitty. And you need to take good care of it, because in my next life, I’m going to come to you as a horse.”
           Miss Kitty's brow wrinkled, and her nose twitched. She did not expect to receive the gift of a house. Fiercely independent, and a little overwhelmed, she wanted to run home and hide in her teeny-tiny bedroom with the leaky roof, the generator that often refused to start, and the long-list of chores that seemed to have a life of its own, always growing taller and fatter. She loved Harold's cabin, and Miss Patches could spend her leisure time in the meadow, frolicking in the grass, rather than standing in the coral lined with dirt and weeds. The committee that lived rent free in Miss Kitty's head pounded the mahagony meeting table, and for once, they all agreed that Miss Kitty should take advantage of this change in venue, and move to Harold's cabin.

            Miss Kitty nodded her head. “Patches would like that; she gets lonely. We’ll take care of the house, Miles, don’t worry. And I’ll be waiting for you to appear; a beautiful painted gelding, or perhaps, as Miles the mule."