For my boy

I won't remember you as you left this world. Scared, drowning, bloody, broken down. Gasping. Afraid until you saw me and then calmed.

I will remember the times you slept on my chest and licked my beard until it was clean. When I look back in years to come, I will think of all the long talks we had where you said absolutely nothing and yet heard everything so well.

You were my first cat and we went though a lot. Marriage, divorce, fights, fun, other cats, dogs, love, loss and so much more. And you were always there for me and I was always there for you.

My life will be different now. It seems like such a small thing to an outsider. But last night, I kept catching glimmers of you. Places you should have been. And I know now, all your pain is gone. You don't need to take drugs to stay alive and you don't have me grabbing your fur to check on you all the time and you don't have that crazy orange cat chasing you all over hell.

You made my life better, little cat. I can't say it any plainer. And I can't explain it any better. I love you.

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I wonder how my house sees the snow. Does it hate the feel? Or does it see it as a blanket to wear through the dark chill? Does it look forward to dew and the rays of the sun kissing its shingles? Because I sure do. Oh, Lord, I do.

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Memo to gypsies: This weather thing is really putting a crimp in our style.

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Sometimes I wonder if I leave you a note in the frost, will the molecules carry across the valley? Will they find their way into the air and remember the intent and carve themselves across your window? And when you do dishes, will you look out and see the letters form before your eyes and laugh at the silliness that is inside my head?

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The snow is not as inviting as a warm lap.

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The snow was between my tires like the tracks in a kid car themepark ride. But this ride was much more thrilling. I slid, I slode, I slipped. The ground was armored and I found each chink with my tire. Bump bump bump. Home is far away but there's a warm dog there.

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i've been crazy for a long time. barely hanging on, but still hanging none the less. sometimes i watch the sand slip through my fingers. instead of scrambling to slow the grains, i just watch them drop and think about the waythey feels against my skin. i've been crazy a long time. weaving in and out of good and bad like a drunkard but its with a crisp sobriety that i make the willing decision not to make a decision. I let time wash over me like a river rock. I've been crazy a long time, but one day i will be smooth.

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