Buttercup Bungalow

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

With Eyes Wide Open

“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.” ― Vincent van Gogh

flickr

"The morning breezes have secrets to tell; don't go back to sleep." ― Rumi

Monday, January 12, 2015

As (almost) always, I wanted to cast a passel of pinks up on a post today. But restraint might be better, as I'm in a time of transition. Not all is pink and airy, except the passing daydream. And gray days often punctuate the bright ones.

They'll be back, the rosy hues and reveries.

Until then, some quiet reflection.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

The Letter

Today I wrote the letter

The words were graceful and clear

In this act of my un-mooring.

The long hoped for day

After the noise and the fight and

All the words unsaid.

Now the story has been told.

Print has fallen from the pages

In my exultant hour.

Where will the music come from

When I wake in the birdless night

To furious silence?

The laughing stars in disarray

They mock and quarrel

And leave me lonely.

Pinterest

At the edge of the sea.

Where time disappears

I shall cast my emptiness on the water.

And hope to dream in miniature

Of fresh hollows and tender beds of green

And new birdsong.

The animals appear and they know

Cloaked in their forms and furs

Together we will hibernate and hum.

Until the birds return

On wings the color of sky

Flying unafraid and free.

Monday, January 5, 2015

Where's the fun?

I've been in search of it for a while now. Kitten Girl passed in May. May 15th, to be exact. I carried her to her final rest, and it was a horrifying, traumatic experience. A long goodbye that didn't last nearly long enough.

She was 18.5 years old. To me, she will always and forever be my baby. I continue to grieve, and that grief complicated the holidays. To say that is an understatement, actually. The grief and longing really cleaned my clock.

There is a new cat, Miss Blue (aka Miss Bluebell Meadows). She's four, glamorous looking, long white hair, dark grey patches, gold eyes. She wants to be a part of my life, though she nearly escaped the car on the way home from the shelter in August. I'd post a photo here, but I can't do that, while I'm blogging about the memory of Kitten Girl. The memories and the loss, which keeps on happening over and over again.

This is a valley of the lost, between losing a deeply beloved and battling guilt over loving the new one. The new one who needs me as much as Kitten Girl ever did. I act as though everything is fine, that the color hasn't drained from my world, but there are days when I think I can't endure another minute. Having major depression helps none of this, of course. But there is no changing that lot, just living with it, living around it, living through it.

Sigh. I miss you, baby. Your Mummy misses you and always will.

But I lived for you once (because I couldn't desert you), and I don't know that I'd end up where you are now, if I chose not to live. Not sure about heaven or hell, and the terrifying possibility that maybe all there is left of our time together is your lock of fur, your ashes, your funny paw print in clay. And the smell of you in my mind. Your skin/fur smell. I breathed it so deeply, so often. Those things, and all the memories.

I knew it would be hard. I just didn't think the really bad feelings, the ones that cut me off at the knees, would come back around with such ferocity at Christmas. I didn't think it would be so powerful, this absence of you. When does the fun begin again? I'm awfully tired of this ride, but afraid to leave it, because if I'm not suffering, am I forgetting you?

Questions without answers.

Yet.

p.s. There is no hidden message here. I plan to stick around. Not in danger of disappearing. If nothing else, I have a cat who needs me! :)