it's a silly thing, really, just the making of a new story, there's no telling it, not yet, just these two cats figuring it out, or not. just a silly thing, the way my heart feels when they are not working it out, when the jingle belle cat stands at the door i have been forced to close, staring in with her slanted blue eyes, just waiting. when skye cat refuses to yield any space, when she looks at me as if i am a traitor, when i think i can read her unhappy thoughts about the whole situation. when i let jingle in anyway, knowing i cannot go back.
last year i ignored mother's day. i didn't write about it, i don't remember it. maybe i went to the cemetery. i probably did. i think i did. i think i stayed a minute and left. last year come mother's day, skye cat had been living me only a week and i had at last managed to exhale, if only a bit. i was still in survival mode, still trying to figure out the logistics of my mother's death. that part hasn't changed much, but her cat now calls my home her home, and as i type those words, she leans her head back across my left arm and says hello. the white underneath part of her neck needs rubbed. i have learned her language.
this year feels more real. this year i miss my mother a lot.
constant storm warnings,
but i still keep my eye on the sky.
never mind that it's blue and the clouds are white.
never mind the afternoon sun across the lawn,
never mind the just-a-breeze moving the dandelions in a soft sexy dance,
a year or so goes by and i start to feel again. aches and pains seem a constant companion. they come and never quite go. they are waves on the water, nothing more, in and then out. i watch them recede, knowing they will splash over me again. inhale, exhale. in, out. life, death. one cat, two cat.
and so i let the two cat stay, let what will be just be.
i want to move like a dandelion;
i want to sway and revel in my inability to do otherwise.