Open Window

I was awakened this morning by a rumbling cat trying to crawl inside of my mouth.

It was cute, but hard to sleep through.

Our new cat, Tank.  He is what Sophie calls a teenager kitty.
His name came from Beckam.  Ironic.  Tank named by a Tank.

Yesterday he broke Pepper's heart by using her arm as a scratching post.

She didn't react at all except to cry like a girl stood up on prom night.

"Honey, if he's hurting you, push him away and tell him to knock it off."

"....okay..." she sputters, as if this thought never occurred to her.

Then I wonder, is this foreshadowing?

Is she too wispy to stand up for herself. Is she too surprised to find that life has claws?

My hair is wound up into a bun with the curly little short pieces lacing my neck.

This is the hair-do which happens when I have sweat into it too many times, but have not showered yet.  

It could stay this way for days.

It is sweaty because last night I ran down State street with my friend K.
He looking like Tom Hanks from Castaway, long beard and far away eyes.
I a slice of cantaloupe in melon-colored shirt and shorts.

I wrote a blog about him and exactly one week later, he appeared.

Casually we huffed and puffed and talked about metaphors of transformation.

When I am with him, I feel like a sister.  I bee-bop along with my ponytail flagging and my toes light.  He probably slowed his pace for me, but he never said a word about it.

With family, there is so much unsaid, and this is as it should be.

No explanation is necessary, because how do you explain the whole picture of a life?

That is why we grow up together.  So we don't have to explain ourselves, so we have people who simply know us.  As I age, and realize that I am not separate, my family circle grows.  I have adopted people, quite unintentionally, into my heart.  I can't help it.  The bonding is an organic thing, like how a vine will simply grow long and wind around anything within its' reach.  My heart is the same, as it thrives, the reaching is intuitive and it just keeps going.  I hope in the end the vines have grown so thick and fat, that none can be pulled apart.

As I ran with K last night, I wanted to call each person in my family whom I have pushed away.

I wanted to say,

"I forgot that we are supposed to do this together, no matter what.  I'm sorry I have been distant."

It is so hard to stay.  There are so many justifiable reasons to disconnect.  Sometimes distance is best for both people, but it is equally important to come back.  I forget that part.  Or maybe I don't always see the window to crawl through as it opens just a crack.