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Old 09-12-2016, 10:47 AM   #57
Sweet Bliss
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It's a quiet Saturday morning, rain is falling on the roof, but the sound is coming from the drops hitting the skylight in the laundry room. Tater is digging a hole to China in the love seat, under the quilt, squiggeling to get as close to me as possible. So cute he is, 5 pounds of pure love and adoration. The cats have decided they HAD to go outside.... I have no idea why.

Very few know the mind of a cat. It is not I.

The rain is pounding now, I can hear the staccato through the heavy hurricane windows T had put in a couple of years ago. I have the back den door open so I can see the rain outside the storm door. I love the rain. Hard, soft, gentle, fierce.... it reminds me of our emotions, always changing, sometimes refreshing and cleansing and at times fierce and frightening. We are blessed and cursed with our seasons of moods. At times wanting to go completely numb and others wanting them to never end.... but they do, they always do.... only to recycle and return with a vengeance or a whisper.

As I sit next to little Tater, curled next to my side, MiMi and Bink are hogging the ottoman, curled in classic cat Zen pose is MiMi, and to her right is Bink, grooming her lush black fur, slowly, deliberately, with a single purpose. An oversize mug with dancing pigs printed on the white ceramic too hot to touch sits to my left. I await with morning breath to taste the dollop of heavy cream and pink stuff mixed with Java joy juice washing away the sleepy leftovers of dreams. Restless dreams, moving across an invisible landscape, an impossible journey of the unconscious restless mind.

The rain has stopped and started again....a lone bird cries out to it's brethren hoping to find companionship in the cool weather and grey sky.

Reaching for the steaming mug I am reminded of the heat of love's first embrace. The pull of the heart strings as the chaos of emotions flood my body. The first touch of a tiny hand, gripping my littlest finger like a drowning soul...insisting.. tugging...demanding attention, affection, adoration, as it floods through my heart and soul, spilling into the tiny form I called mine. Mine. All Mine.

Time passes and the realization that the tiny form has evolved into a separate being crashes through my psyche, in disbelief I struggle to maintain what is Mine,. Mine. Mine. Exert control, demands, punishment, love, affection, gifts, ..... it's all for naught. Mine for a time, not forever. Mine to hold for a time, not forever. Mine to love forever. The love is forever. The Mine is temporary.

The Lover's first embrace, full of expectation and delight, hot like a fresh pot of coffee, slowly cooling to a carafe of ..... companionship? regrets? lessons? relief? trust? friendship? truce? Each dissolves over time.... leaving an imprint on my skin. A tattoo if you will. Each telling a story that could be true or not.

The pale brown elixir is now tepid....fitting don't you think? The falling rain calls my name..... come, come Sister, rejoice in the life you live, dance with me.... You are Mine and I am Yours
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