I notice the shadow falling over the afternoon. I pause, wondering. Then, a long, rolling rumble of thunder confirms it.

I feel both a tension and a peace, and I’m not quite sure how that works together. 

The weather moves in, and the rain begins to pelt.

The sudden coolness and wateriness of the world surrounds me. The energy sweeping this maelstrom to my doorstep buzzes in the air. The pressure of the next thunderous boom builds inexorably.

And yet, I am at utter peace. There is somehow safety in this sequestered moment, resting in the arms of nature even when there may be trouble there. There is a necessary letting go; there is nothing to which to hold on. This minute just is. 

I look down, and there is my best friend cat stretched out lazily about as far as he can go, wholly content.

It is just a breath of a moment where all the worry, all the unknowns of life in the Time of Covid recede: a rainy respite from what might be normal, or should be, or could be, or God help us. 

Coming away from it all too quickly, I feel the forgotten sense of potential, and right on its heels, fatigue. There’s a lot of work in all the routines of uncertainty and concern, and I’m tired as the mantle of subconscious worry slips back over me. We’re all tired, I think.

But for just that moment, I let go and now I remember what that feels like, that it’s possible inside this epoch of abnormalities. I picture the narrative we’ve lately been living just drifting out the window, like a mist sucked away with the now retreating weather, and I can’t help but notice what’s left.

Possibilities. Everywhere.

Best friend cat renews his stretch, rolling over, abandoned to it.

best friend

veru11_1_18aSometimes – often, in fact – my very best friend in this world is the cat with whom I share my home. He’s really a pretty amazing guy.

For one thing, he is always, always present to me. He clearly wants to be with me and to be my friend. He purrs A LOT.

He follows me from room to room without demanding attention. If I’m sitting in the living room, so is he. If I’m laying in bed, so is he. If I’m taking a shower, he’s right on the other side of the shower curtain. He makes it damned obvious that he wants to be with me.

At the same time, he’s independent. He clearly has a mind of his own. He’s tuned into things. He’s alert and observant. He’s filled with curiosity about the world. He’s very creative, too, always inventing new ways to pique my interest.

He’s completely non-judgmental about whatever it is that I’m doing or thinking. I can tell him anything. Anything. And he understands.

When I sing songs to him, he does not make any jokes about my voice.

In fact, he never makes any caustic remarks about anything I do – ever. That includes cooking, cleaning, employment, driving, social interactions, or big decisions.

And he absolutely does not care at all what I am wearing or how I look.

He takes me seriously. When I’m alarmed, he’s alarmed. When I’m upset, he is, too. He has been known to come to me and gently stroke my face when I’ve been crying. He also loves a good laugh with me.

He listens to anything I have to say. He not only understands my need to read to a lot, to write, and to sew and be creative, he absolutely appreciates it. He is demonstrable in his appreciation, sprawling across whatever sewing project I may have in the works, or cuddling up with me and a book.

He loves to have simple fun. He has a sense of humor. He can be sneaky. He likes to make surprises. His eyes are usually sparkling with joy. He loves dancing with me. He’s affectionate, always.

He’s a total coward – often hiding under the bed or in the closet if someone new enters the premises. That said, he’s totally courageous. Just watch him leap fearlessly into the air to snag a flying mouse toy.

He’s epicurean. He loves food. He loves hanging out in the kitchen. He loves pretty much anything I dish up for him.

He loves sunshine, butterflies, birds, and bugs. He loves warm. He loves rain and snow. He loves trees. He loves anything that moves, slightly.

He’s expressive. He’s intelligent. He’s not afraid to ask for help. He really loves a good stretch.

It makes me happy to make him happy. I love being around him. I love playing little games with him, and surprising him with toys. I love it when I make a comfy spot for him, and he jumps right in.

I love arriving home to his warm welcome.

Old soul, playful sprite. Confidante, partner, witness, hero. Midnight raider, ministering angel. Visionary, realist.

Yup, my best friend, my buddy. So grateful!