Impromptu writing, whatever comes...on writing or whatever the question of the day is. |
"We do not remember days, we remember moments." Cesare Pavese So many years of life, so many moments to remember. So, there it goes: Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, and meow... My mother is seriously ill. The character that she is, she refuses to go to the hospital; therefore, she's at home, recuperating. The doctor stops by daily. Suddenly, one day, the illness turns scary. My grandma and I think she's dying. We call the doctor. Grandma sends me downstairs to the kitchen to make tea. Since Mom won't take her medicine by mouth, it has to be dissolved in some kind of a hot liquid. While I wait for the kettle's whistle, I sit at the kitchen table, holding my head in my hands. My tabby cat jumps on the table, something he never does as he's not allowed. Without any fear of a scolding, he begins to lick my face, his meows like the coos of a pigeon. He is singing to me the song of the moment, the song of soothing, the song of solace that will weave in my memory's threads never to be forgotten, unlike any other moment lost in time. I let my hands caress the soft fur, tracing thoughts along the curve of the spine of his tiny body. My cat helps me make it over this dark ravine, in one continuous stream of his meows. This moment in time stays pristine. This moment that created smiles out of dread is not wasted. This moment, vapor-like though it was, is used and reused in difficult times when one of my karmic tales suddenly pops up to challenge me. What a cat my tabby was several decades ago; what a cat he still is in my memory! |