Above pretty much sums up where we are now. 23 years into this parenting gig, it’s now me and the teen, and if a housecat has moved into a box on the kitchen table for the winter? Well, so be it. And the other cat refuses to drink water except on the kitchen sink? Well, so be that, too.
As a young mother, I read a literal library of parenting advice and made a trillion mistakes. I take my (diminished) reading time much more seriously these days. I continue to make mistakes. And I’ve decided the cats are fine companions, even on the table.
In so many versions of my previous life, this wouldn’t fly. Now, listening to Biden talk about his proclaimed End of the Pandemic, I wonder, What’s all that about? Who gets to decide what, anyway, and why believe anyone else when your experience doesn’t jive?
Rain comes down in buckets. A friend gives us a bucket of apple drops. I cook bacon in the oven and buy the best loaf of bread I can find for our dinner. Our tomato and basil plants are still churning out their delectables. Sure, winter is in the near offing. Much more than winter, too. Our cat is the happiest creature I’ve ever loved. We offer him drops of milk on our fingertips, licks of butter from a smooth silver knife, tender kisses on his head.
As the cat
the top of
first the right
carefully— William Carlos Williams
then the hind
into the pit of
11 thoughts on “Here we are…”
Amazing how the pandemic disappears, inflation recedes, and gas prices drop…..all about the same time. We’re all being played by both sides of the aisle and most don’t recognize it.
We all change our parenting as we deal with many life situations. And, I’m going to listen to my doctor and still wear and mask to protect my immunocompromised body.
Wise move on your part. I hope you stay well!
Thank you. I’m trying.
None of this is easy these days….
Loving your cat stories and poem, even though I’m not a cat person.
Some of my favorite people aren’t cat people although, admittedly, that mystifies me….
Noted the Lost Nation Orchard box, which I think is the Lost Nation Orchard in New Hampshire that is still missing the apple growing and literary wonder of its steward, Michael Phillips. I heard he passed this past February chasing deer in the am from his orchard. I learned much from his writing and even more from his spirit. He is missed, even when we have purring cats to help us heal.
I’ve long intended to read Michael Phillips. I’ll have to do so. I didn’t realize he had passed. His box is a beloved one in our kitchen…..