For me writing is launching my little boat on the great river of life, seeing where the currents will take me. It is an adventure and a homecoming, at the same time.
The fog this morning is so thick that I can barely make out the house directly across the street. Attila said his drive in to work was longer than usual, he drove very carefully with very poor visibility. This is not usual for this area, it is the first time we have seen fog this dense here, having owned the property for over 12 years, and lived here for 7 years. Wow, 7 years, has it been that long!
Ginger and I are having a quiet morning. He has his routines. In the morning he sits near the bedroom door and waits for us to awaken. When I arise he heads for his water bowl and sits before it, staring at me, and his eyes say “do the right thing Maggie, fresh water in the bowl, now”. And I always oblige.
After a long drink of fresh water, he eats a little bit, and then he is ready for action. He follows us around, loudly giving instructions that we stupidly do not understand or obey. Eventually he gives up on us, and he sits in the hallway, central to the house, to keep an eye on everything we are doing.
After Attila leaves for work Ginger alights onto his footstool, placed strategically in the centre of the living room, where he stretches out, as much as a very large cat can stretch out on a small footstool, and enters the land of nod. As I write, there he lies, occasionally snoring when he places his paws over his face.
Later in the day, usually when I am attempting to eat my lunch, he awakens refreshed and ready to be adored. Adored by me. And so he sits by my chair, as I sit at the table, and demands to be petted. I am such a soft touch; I abandon the food in front of me to pet him until he stares off towards his food bowl, and wanders slowly away towards it. Then, and only then, am I allowed to resume eating my lunch.
After we eat our lunch, it is once again time for petting and adoring. He soon tires of this, and once again jumps onto his throne (the footstool) to nap away the afternoon.
When Attila gets home from work he stirs not. But Attila will have none of that, greeting Ginger with an affectionate ruffling of the fur, and another petting and adoring session begins.
Ginger spends his evenings watching our activities, running under foot for a bit of excitement from time to time, and napping when we are sitting in our chairs chatting as the evening comes to a close.
What a wonderful companion, our Ginger.
Updated on Thu, Nov 3, 9:35 AM
FEELS LIKE 7
Wind 3 E km/h
Humidity 94 %
Visibility 7 km
Sunrise 7:47 AM
Wind gust 5 km/h
Pressure 102.5 kPa
Ceiling 100 m
Sunset 5:55 PM
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”
1934 – 2021
Although I would not consider myself to be an author of great works, I write for reasons very similar to those Ms. Didion describes.