Yellow by Brenna Jeanneret
Yellow.
Denver was yellow like sunshine.
The rays poured from her.
Golden ears flapped in the wind.
She snored by my side, loyal, gentle, and warm.
Pure joy bounding through tall grass.
Four paws of happiness.
And then black.
Relentless and aggressive.
My turn. I am by her side. Waiting.
Time sucked up like the family vacuum.
A last trip to her favorite place ––the ocean.
Black road, yellow lines.
Black tumor, yellow Denver.
Panting.
Wobbling.
The sun sets in her eyes.
She is gone.
Tears blur the rest.
Hot red faces unable to hold the dam.
Carried by the flood, we continue to the coast.
The days are gray as her ashes…
I see a dog park she would have loved.
A river we wouldn’t have been able to keep her out of.
Poo…she most definitely would have rolled in.
And, I giggle.
Th sound of yellow.
Our orange van––solid and reassuring–– takes us to the blue coast.
She would have loved this.
I start to see the sun.
It’s not yellow, but it’s close.
“It was rejected several times and I didn’t really know what else to do with it. This is not my usual style but when our dog died on our road trip it just came out.”
To avoid adult responsibilities at all costs Brenna spends as much time as possible road-tripping with her husband and son in their VW van to rock climb. She is agented by Dan Cramer at Page Turner Lit and co-hosts the kidlit podcast You May Contribute A Verse. Find her on Twitter @Brennajeanneret