What is Drastic + Dramatic

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Tiny Things

My mom adopted a new itty kitty. My sister and I call her Meow. Some of the things she does that seem to be her favorite so far are meow, sleep by day and scurry by night, nuzzle specifically your nose, try to eat whatever you're eating, and just lounge anywhere that involves human body contact.

Last night I slept on my mom's couch --had a late night and didn't want to drive home-- and Meow was playing in the Great Room all night. She diligently checked in with me throughout the night, though, sliding whiskers and fur thoughtfully across my face; pouncing across the length of my body as though seeing in how few landings she could do it; jumping from the floor to my head to whack me once on the forehead; and finally, when it was time for me to wake and be a living thing, she cuddle onto my neck and began her rock-tumbling purr.

I amused her for a while but soon moved her to where she could be comfortable while I could again take command of my head. There was a lot on my mind and it weighed down my desire to rise.

Curiosity that cannot absorb factual information can quickly turn to confusion, much like lungs short on air might turn one blue in the face. Unless relief is received one might faint from doubt and unhappiness. I was experiencing a similar steady stream of feeling and the flood soon rose to my eyes. The tear ducts were soon overwhelmed and the morning sun reflected in the dew gathering on my cheeks.

This shimmer is probably why she even noticed the salty gem slowly tracing from eye to chin. It was most likely the first tear she had ever seen. As I watched her wide, sea-foam green eyes dare the tiny sparkle to move again so she could leap and strike, I marveled that such a tiny creature even noticed it. She didn't have even the slightest recognition of what it was, even less what it could mean, and yet she watched it carefully, curiously.

Not many things that are smaller than a tear can contain so much within themselves. Meow didn't know, she won't ever know, she won't care, she won't remember, but somehow I was glad those tears were witnessed --intently recognized-- without my needing to explain or discuss feeling with a member of my own species.

I wiped those tiny tears away and the tiny kitten closed her eyes. The tiny spot in the universe continued quietly.
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