The Mac Book sat on the nightstand next to her with a glowing light from the power source pulsing on and off as if a person with it’s own beating heart. Always a reassuring comfort seeing that light. She woke early in the morning before any noises from the outside world stirred her. Bella still snored a low purr and growl that was more inviting than any human snore she had heard. Chance felt her hands ache for the keyboard, her morning ritual.
That night she had dreamt about them both. It was the week before her only son was leaving for college. Jake had merely walked in and announced that he was leaving to. Nothing had prepared her for the double devastation. Her body became an instant frozen state, rigid and emotionless. It would take her months to feel a tear muster enough energy to trickle down her check.
That same week she walked in her zombie-state into the Apple store and bought a Mac Book. She did not need her therapist. She did not even want to talk to her sister, her closet confident. She just needed to pour every thought, word, feeling, and memory into a safe place. It had to come out of her in gushes, and heaps, whenever it needed to, all hours and nights. Her Book was always warm on her lap inviting her to say more and feel more. It had started the thaw.
Now she looked at the beat up, smudged on, scratched up white computer and felt the delight building inside her. She was so anxious to share with her latest secrets and experiences, still at her own pace and with the same abandon. She has found home.