An ocean of worry delivers me here. I feel anxious, like I do when I feel I’m losing my grip on memory, time, my children. It’s an illusion to feel we’re ever in control, but it sure feels great when we do. I wouldn’t say that I’m tipping in either direction in this moment, but I feel sick with all the memories that have already sailed away, forgotten, while I’ve been doing what? Living, I suppose.
We all have to do that.
We lost our two senior cats over the last year and after a few months of grieving their absence, we set out, the boys and me, to find two new friends. The old pair never cared for them, and it took a long while to reassure them that not all cats hiss at little boys. We thought about kittens, but instead settled on two young cats — really more dog than feline. They love Sam and John. And I dare say, the boys love them too.