No. 14 : In the Night, the Cat Says Hello

This cat, a neighbor cat, winds himself around my ankles as I stumble over him to the door.

Balancing briefcase and keys jangling, I search for the right key in the darkness on my porch.

He meows and purrs, not for food but for time.

Nightly homecoming ritual broken, I surrender. I scratch the head of this aberration; his neck, his ears.

Sitting on the step I take stock of the night. The wind in the redbud. The blink of a meandering firefly. Clouds ranging over the full moon.

This is no surrender to the couch, to the blue light of the next binge. It is instead a moment demanded by a being who asks for one thing only, to be. Pay attention.

Not to the rituals I have fallen into, but this—the world around me. The world I pass through and so rarely take time to consider.

The simplicity of the night. The moon. A cat.