New legs

Simeon...casual and elegant

It seems all it does is rain this summer. How can it be so dry? Rain. Sun. Dry. I guess that’s the cycle, but still. It seems incredible. It’s the first year I’ve had any trouble in the cabin with mosquitoes, or flies, or gnats. Got them all this year. Just a few, most stuck in the front window looking for release, but that’s awfully near my table. If they’re not hovering over me they’re there in my peripheral vision.

I’ve sat outside more, but when I do, the flying insects drive me in. It’s okay. In or out feels so nearly the same. When I stay out, it’s usually for the smell and the touch of the breeze that’s different from when it’s coming through the window.

Simeon is sitting on the white chair across from where I sat a few minutes ago, looking elegant with one paw hanging casually off the seat. After his few nights outside, he seems like a different cat. He is not so clingy. Maybe he’s mad at me. I am good now for opening the door and I no longer open it at night. He’s gotten his alley cat legs under him. I always knew it would happen. “Simeon,” I have said, “is not to be trusted outside at night.” I knew he could turn – step out of being a “house cat.”

I feel kind of like Simmy. Like I’ve gotten some kind of new legs under me.

I’m surrounded by people who will do sweet things to please me that aren’t exactly what will please me…you know? It’s hell to be such a loner within a “togetherness” family. Sort of like waiting to be let out the door. It constantly makes me feel bad. I swing from “I deserve my time alone” to “they deserve to have me engaged.” There’s something really skewed about that and I’m ready to get out of it. I want sweeter thoughts in my head if I’m going to have thoughts there…you know? I’ve been praying for that lately.

Simeon’s been the kind of cat I have to push away, always in my bed, on my table, at my elbow, clamoring for my lap. Now he’s not. I’ve thought, several nights, that he must have gotten outside, because he’s not on the bed. But he’s been in. Maybe sitting in a window looking out. Pining in a cat way for what he hasn’t got.

He’s changed. Maybe it’s seasonal, but for the moment, he’s a different cat. I kind of miss the cat he was; kind of don’t. I do know I don’t want to do the thing that will make him happiest – let him roam.

He’s come in the cabin now and is sitting on the small wicker table that holds a conch shell. Not bugging me at all. Independent.

Angie is on vacation from school and she’s off with Henry. The blue eggshell is still sitting on the path. I kind of like the feeling of being connected but not so involved…and kind of miss the way things were.

Life is like that lately… an exploration of autonomy…of having new legs.