In the Shadow of Satellites by Amanda Dick

makes me smile properly for the first time in days.
    “You guys suck.”
    I fumble around in the kitchen drawer for another pen, but all I come up with is a red one. I use it to mark off Wednesday on the calendar. The one red cross stands out markedly against all the black ones. An echo from somewhere deep inside reminds me that something like this would annoy James, with his need to keep things ordered and neat. Now, it just marks the day that he and Kieran stole my black pen. A red letter day, in more than one sense.
    I’m almost out of coffee, so I use my red pen to add it to the list that Ana and I made on Sunday, before she left. It’s getting urgent. I can do without some things, but I must have coffee. I need supplies, and I have to go today. Contemplating it for a moment, I decide that I can handle this. I can. Today is a good day.
    I grab my notebook and flip it open while I wait for my precious coffee to cool. Dangling the pen between my fingers, I take a moment to think. I’ve already written about the day Kieran was born, but today I want to write about the day we took him home from the hospital.
    It was strange, walking back into the house again after only being away a couple of days. When I left, it was in a hurry. I was in labour and things were frantic, despite my intention to keep calm, to keep James calm. Arriving home a couple of days later, a little bundle of joy in my arms, a proud but worried husband beside me, everything seemed different. It was like walking into a new dimension. I guess in a way it was. Nothing was the same after that.
    I write down everything I can remember about that day, from what I had dressed Kieran in for his first ride in a car, to what James made for dinner that night. I mention my engorged boobs and the 11pm, 2am and 5am feedings. I even mention the tears, of gratitude, anxiety and happiness that sneak up on me at some point between feedings, while James is sleeping soundly beside me and Kieran is finally sated. That night seemed like the longest in history. At the time, I remember begging for more sleep. Now, I’d give anything to have that night over again. I wouldn’t have put Kieran back into his cot. I wouldn’t have slept. I would’ve held him in my arms all night, committing him to memory, every inch of him, from his dark downy hair, to his chubby little toes. I would’ve relished the weight of him, the feel of him against my body, his skin so soft and sweet-smelling.
    I look up from my notebook bleary-eyed. Sometimes the memories hurt more than they heal. Staring at the French doors from my place at the table, it takes me several seconds to realise that Geezer is sitting there, on the other side of the glass. He appears to be watching me. I close my eyes. Maybe he’s an apparition. It’s not the first time. I open my eyes again slowly, but he’s still there. His tail begins to wag, slowly at first, and as I get up to open the door he stands too, his tail beating a swift, silent drum.
    “Hello,” I say, opening the door to him.
    I’m probably imagining it, but he looks like he’s smiling, which makes me smile in return.
    “Do you want to –”
    Before I can finish my sentence, he’s strolling past me and into the living room.
    “– come in?”
    He lies down on the floor in front of the couch, looking every inch at home. I glance out the door and across in the direction of Luke’s place, but it’s clear Geezer has wandered over here of his own free will. I can hear Luke hammering in the distance, oblivious.
    “Okay,” I say, to him or to me, I’m not sure. “You might as well stay for a little while.”
    He looks up at me, then drops his head on his paws again, quite content. I prop open the French doors and go back into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, filling up a small bowl as an afterthought.
    “This is for you,” I say to him, setting it on the floor by the kitchen door. “In case you get thirsty.”
    His eyes follow me, but he