every time i'm "almost home" from wherever i have been, i think of syd, the cat. i realize now that i thought of him, subconsciously, every single time i was almost home from somewhere, the entire 11 years i knew him. the context of the thought is, "oh good, i'm almost home. syd is there. i can't wait to hold him, and kiss him, and love him. i can't wait to see his eyes looking up at me, his mouth opening, 'meow,' mouth closing, 'meow.' i can't wait to feel his fur and his warm body and how much he loves me."
now he is a pine box sitting on my dresser with a tiny stuffed cat from the 50s, perched on top, guarding.
1 comment:
He's still waiting for you, Lou. Sometimes at night, just before I fall asleep, I pray that I'll have a dream about the people (or animals) that have died, just so I can spend some time with them.
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