it comes and it goes

A moment of clarity so much clearer than I would have liked.

Seeing things that I could have done without seeing. Speaking words that make no sense to anyone but me. Laughing at bad jokes and hard comments and all this party banter. It makes my face hurt.

I would much rather be home, sitting in my garden, even if that means there are mosquitoes.

And then, later, I am home, in my garden, and there are mosquitoes, and black flies, and my funny little kitten who keeps rooting in my heart, growing deep into a place I did not know was there.

There is that risk, again. We take it, all of us, each time we love. Knowing what could happen.

It cannot be helped.

Like these damned mosquitoes. I just want to sit here. They just want to eat. But I am not in the mood for compromise.

There is another cat here, the neighbor’s. I’d like to adopt her, too.
I know she is hungry. I feed her, sometimes. But no more cats, no more. And she is theirs, not ours, although so was my Pepe, when he showed up here, half-dead. I didn’t feel like compromise then, either, although I sort of got permission before I brought him inside. At least I told them he was here. They did not ask for him back.

My mockingbird has learned duck. It is hysterical. Quack quack.
A big cosmic joke, the mockingbird. One of my favorites. Evolution is supposed to happen for a reason. But what is the reason for the mockingbird’s talent? And what about fireflies? What is the reason for the glow, is there one? Or are they just pretty?

Songs float through my mind these days. Lines I remember and don’t know why. Just now, “This is not my beautiful life.” Well, this can’t be anything but my life, I am the only one in it. This is my life. And it is beautiful.

The cats are playing: hide and seek, you can’t catch me, this is my house. Once survival is taken care of, something else kicks in: the need to be entertained.

I just want to sit here and listen. This mockingbird that has learned to quack. It makes me smile, I sit here by myself with a silly grin on my face. The air is oppressive. Humidity 100%. There is no breeze.

Nature doesn’t care what I think, or say or do or observe. She just marches on, in one direction. Nature never asks why.

But still, these cats.

They play.

8 Responses to “it comes and it goes”

  • Debi Says:

    awareness. a two edged sword, is it not?

    i searched yesterday for a bird, i thought a mockingbird, not sure what he’d learned, i’d not heard it bfore, but he was always one step ahead and i never found him. it wasn’t duck, which is pretty wonderful, but it was something new. nature having a bit of a giggle with me.

  • molly campbell Says:

    From one cat lady to another: I hope you keep that kitten! A beautiful post. I also recommend Deep Woods Off. molly

  • jill Says:

    I bird that quacks…how funny! I guess he likes “mocking”!! 🙂

    I feel the same way about parties and having to make small talk. I much prefer intimate get-togethers.

  • Tracy Says:

    I could feel your tiredness in this one.

    We declined an invite tonight. Too humid to make conversation.

  • Sally G. Says:

    I often wish I was more like Nature. I’ve used that theme from time to time in posts of my own. Nature does what it does, is what it is, with no regard for the judgment of others. I wish I could do that ALL the time.

    I’ve gone places out of obligation to those who desire to be there, or perhaps even desire me to be there. And at some point, longed to leave. It’s the Introvert in me. And the Inner Hermit that rises from time to time.

    You’re not alone. I hear you. In ways, I may be just like you …

  • Brenda Kula Says:

    I love to read your words. They make me smile. So do your kitties. So much love we have to give, and the sweet animals lap it up like milk in a bowl. You are a kind and generous soul.

  • lisaschaos Says:

    Oh to be the cat, unaware and unconcerned. 🙂 You have such a good heart!

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