Our brood of cats is down to just the one--Thorn Rex, the Big Black Bastard, Back Yard Panter, Highlander of Cats--and Thorn, in some ways, is very much a dog. I forget how much I enjoy being in the presence of cats. The house in Burlington is populated by a proper glaring, a couple of which allowed for pets and ear scratches. I suffered later in the night with itchy eyes; my cat allergy developed within the past couple years, and being a regular nuzzler of cats, this is an unhappy development (for me, maybe not for the cats). Itchy eyes be damned, I am so grateful to exist in a world with cats, (their world), and I am so grateful cats do not have wings. Because, as Wolfman and I posited one morning over breakfast, wouldn't that be a terrifying world to live in--one in which cats had wings? (We'd have to carry armored umbrellas on any outdoor trek.)
I Am Grateful:
- to Grandma when she packs my lunch one day and adds an entire sleeve of ginger cookies.
- that I can wear, essentially, whatever I feel moved to wear to work, and the freedom that has given me to explore and experiment with my personal style.
- for cinnamon raisin toast with apple butter, the taste of autumn even as summer only just begins.
- that it was Jared's childhood home to which we brought our baby when he was first born, and that in that laying-in period with newborn Martigan, the view out our window was the same with which Jared had grown up.
- for plum wine with dinner when I'm feeling blue.
- for Jo Beth's cooking (particularly those little mashed potato cup cakes).
- for Martigan's tiny voice on the phone telling me, "I miss you."
- for Ella's animated, exaggerated happiness, the way she wiggles her entire body and claps her hands to her face when she sees us pull into the drive way.
- for the memory of how giddy the sight of Jared's Xterra, now our family car, once made me when it pulled into that same driveway.
- that my son has three grandfathers, each one different, each one special, each one kind and loving, to watch and guide him as he grows into a man.
- for two uninterrupted mornings in a row, without the baby, to write and drink my coffee at a leisurely pace, and be quiet.
Photos from Father's Day afternoon, spent with Wolfman's dad in Burlington.
