falling

Finally, Fall has crept over the South. Things are finally starting to come back to normal around the house without a name. Lots of people look at the seasons as metaphors for change, and I guess being the sap that I am means that I sometimes do too.

It was really quite a hard Summer. We moved, we renovated, I lost my kitty, Boo to the most tragic death that I had never imagined. The shadows shift and the grass turns to brown and I wonder what I will put on her grave now that the last Summer flower has died. I wonder if next Summer will feel more vibrant and if I can take back over the chore of mowing the back yard again without a lump choking me like a vine chokes a tree as I pass back and forth and back and forth past her grave.

Those who say things that others repeat say that "time heals all wounds" and I can only hope that it is true. It has been three months and I still can't talk about what happened to Boo. All I can do is miss her and feel like a fool as I come in the back door and expect to see her there only to realize that she isn't there at all. For nine years, she was my constant companion. Nine years of such seasons changing. The warmth of her coal black fur in the Summer as I tried to coax her away from the shifting sunbeams in the hall. The warmth still again as I fell asleep at night and felt her on the pillow beside me with one little white paw reached out and laid on my hand. The warmth of her beside me as we put up our little aluminum Christmas tree, as she looked at me as if to say, "I am going to eat that" before chasing an ornament around the rug. Every year, the tree was placed higher and higher but I was never a match for her determination.

I miss the way that she hopped like a little rabbit and how she stayed so small, just small enough to curl up in my arms to make little biscuits in the air, nursing my arm for I was the only mother that she had ever known. I miss having her sitting on the toilet lid each morning, her grassy green eyes watching my every move as I got ready for work. I sang to her and talked to her but somehow felt that she was dumbing herself down for me. She was an old soul and I wished that she could tell me her stories but had to be satisfied in that she listened to mine.

From now on, I am going to judge relationships against how Boo made me feel. She made me feel gloriously happy and lucky and overwhelmingly responsible. Responsible to make her feel the way that she made me feel. I hope that her time was a happy time. A gloriously happy time. And I apologize that it had to end so soon.

I'll always miss you, Boo.