And Then There Was "Life"

Another weekend post from my son's farm:

It started with an innocent glance out the window. I noticed one of the cats walking towards the shop. She hopped onto the dog house with the cat condo in the attic and then entered. I thought to myself, "If I was a cat, that is where I would have my kittens." And thought little else of it. Until ...

I went to feed the cats and heard this mewing from above. Not in the loft by the window but along the wall beside it. All three little kittens who live up in the loft were accounted for so my heart skipped a beat when I thought, "Babies!"

I hopped up to take a peek and sure enough. The Mama Cat who had been hissing at everyone and everything upon my arrival the previous night (I had wondered if this could be a sign she was in labor because this seemed out of character for her). Sure enough. I peeked in and saw one proud Mama looking up at me as if to say, "Look what I did!!"

I marvelled at the wonder of life on the farm and then started to ponder what may be going on in the cat loft in the shop.

One particular cat was at my side and a bit ahead of me as I made my way. She quickly hopped into the cat loft ahead of my arrival. When I couldn't see inside, I used the camera on my phone to take this:

I was 95% sure this meant there were kittens. But my suspicions were not confirmed until my next trip back. As I approached, the suspected new mom made her way just as I arrived. Sure enough, there was the tell tale sign of mewing kittens as soon as they knew their mom had arrived.

Then I had the opportunity to witness another act of mothering. I heard an unfamiliar meow that caught my attention. Immediately I noticed one of the "teen" kittens running to the sound. As it turns out this was this guy's mom and he knew she had caught a mouse for him.

This is as close as I could get to "Little Smokey" last week:

She/he was too timid to make it down the cat ramp onto the platform where all the cats get fed. I tried and tried to coax her down but she just wasn't ready. But this weekend, I'm almost certain she remembered me. When I arrived Friday night, she was the friskiest of all. It as if she was saying, "Look at me! Look what I've done!! Look at me now!!!" And when I went to pick her up, she didn't even struggle or act uncomfortable. It melted my heart just a little. Look at her now:

All in all, it was a most excellent day. I bonded more with the dogs. I gave the rabbits some treats. I simply soaked in the day and its small wonders.

The sun set upon another most excellent day on the farm. And it was good.

Lately, I've Been Thinking ...

As I was typing up a response to a group email that has been cycling around my siblings and me this week, Mom's clock chimed in. Just as I was ready to hit the "Send" button.

Two years ago today. Very close to this very time. Mom breathed her last breath.

Did she just chime in to add her two cents worth? Think what you like. I asked her if there was any way to let us know she was close by after she left this earth, to please send a sign. Mom? Was that you?

One morning last week, I was feeling a tad out of sorts. I backed the car out of the garage and my radio transmitted the words, "Lately, I've been, I've been thinking ... I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier ... " Mom?, I wordlessly wondered.

The morning after I wrote about our final conversation with Mom, as I backed out of the driveway and headed to work, the radio sang to me again. "Lately, I've been, I've been thinking ... I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier ... " Mom?

I'm at peace, Mom. I sense you close to me. More at times than others. I think of you so very often, Mom.

This is how I think of you:

I think of you in good health. Memories of those final months are fading. I'm holding onto conversations we had. But I'm letting the sad stuff go.

Wherever you are, this is my wish:

 "Lately, I've been, I've been thinking ... I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier ... "

Someone is (always) Watching Over Me

Our cat, Jet is taking my morning pages very seriously.

While it seems he is very interested in the written word, it is less about what is on the page and more about the process:

He lays atop my book and arm then chases the pen as I write.

I am not quite sure if he is encouraging or discouraging this writing habit I am trying to develop. He is such an attention hog and is always looking to find ways to make his repetitive little life a little more interesting.

If chasing my pen as I write makes him happy, so be it.

One never feels alone in this home of ours.

Where Will I Be ...

My morning thoughts evolved into a state of wondering "Where will I be in ten years?" ... then twenty ... then thirty.

Ten years is easy. I have sisters who are nine and eleven years older than me. I remember Mom at their age. Mom always seemed young for her years. My sisters seem younger. I'm not saying I will seem younger than them but the moral to this paragraph is I believe I will be a vibrant, healthy and productive human being in ten years.

Twenty years is more illusive. I can remember snippets of what was going on in Mom's life when she was twenty years older than I am right now. She may have had pneumonia by this time. It was the first time I remember coming face to face with the fact Mom was a mortal human being. She bounced back as if nothing had happened, adopted some new eating/living strategies and proved how resilient she was.

Mom was an independent, determined soul. Her advise to me was "surround yourself with younger people". She didn't mean those of the daycare age I had been tending. She was steering me towards surrounding myself with young minded adults who were not obsessed with aging, health issues, talk of death and dying. Live while you are young and as you age, surround yourself with youthful people was what I heard.

Thirty years from now, I will be on the cusp of what ended up being Mom's final year with us. Even when her health became more worrisome, she fought hard for her independence and to remain in her home.

I look at the way she lived that year. She accepted our presence when the chips were down but the moment she started feeling more like herself she sent us home and we all carried on life as we knew it.

I remember Mom bracing me to accept the news would not be good when she went to the hospital. She was giving me advance warning to prepare for the worst. It is not good. And it wasn't. But it wasn't as dire as Mom thought. She lived seven more months. She slowed down. She ate what she could. She did her very best to follow doctor's orders. She read. She had her favorite spots in the sun (her living room couch in the winter; her sun room in the summer). "I am not in any pain" was Mom's common refrain throughout the months that followed her diagnosis.

Mom died the way she lived. On her own terms. In her home until her (almost) final days. Her last chat with us had us laughing. A coin phrase we had adopted through some of my last visits with Mom was (because I tend to be a long winded soul who uses too many words to say very little), "And that's all I have to say about that". After our final family meeting with her doctors (who had been focusing far too heavily on talk about her health), when she had spoken her piece and said all that needed to be said, she looked over at me and asked, "What would Forrest Gump say?"

"That's all I have to say about that."

Very few words were spoken after that conversation and I believe that is how Mom would have wanted it. She went out on a high note. I remember that serious conversation with lightness in my heart.

Where will I be in thirty years? I hope I am in a place where I have enough of Mom's spirit within me to look up and out of myself and into the lives of others. I don't want to feel lost in my own thoughts and worries. I want to read in a sunbeam, soak up the moments and feel I have everything to live for.

Mom left me with many conversations to ponder. I hope I never forget her wisdom and adopt the feisty part of her that made her who she was.

We had our final conversation with Mom two years ago today. It is fading but I remember the feeling. We were ready. Mom was ready. She had said all she had to say. And that's all I have to say about that.

Pay Back Time

The real world has come crashing down upon me this Tuesday-after-the-long-weekend in a "Monday" kind of way. I'm back.

Monday has become my day where phone calls and appointments are made. It is a day of business for all, so I can tend to that which I normally don't have time to do during the work week. This morning is filled with all of the above.

The real world has come crashing down upon me after a most idyllic weekend.

Does powering down, turning "off" and stepping away from life as you know it make it harder to jump back into one's regular routine? One would think you should feel more energized and raring to go. I simply feel like I need to squeeze "Monday" into the first few hours of today.

The to-do-list is mounting once again. The goal is to do it all before Friday. Long weekends are wonderful. Tuesday after the long weekend? Is pay back time.

Happy back-to-work day to you. May you be one of the lucky ones who has the day to call your own.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

I don't want to go home. But I must...

I have done nothing of value since I arrived at my son's farm except for feeding the animals. I fed myself. I slept. I read (and read and read some more). I watched programs I had downloaded off of Netflix. I talked to the cats. Lots. I have tried to make my presence here invisible before I pack up and head home.

I will go talk to the animals some more before I go. I will feed them one more time. Then I must go home. Back to life in the city. I have another week to put in before I can do this "weekend thing" all over again.

How in the world can I do so little and feel so okay about it?

I have declared this weekend a vacation. A vacation away from home and from all responsibilities I have there. Our cats have fended for themselves and now I must go home and clean cat litter. More cat litter. And more cat litter (I put out three extra kitty litter boxes during my absence).

We will need some groceries. The house will need to be vacuumed. There is little more to do other than prepare myself for the week ahead of me.

I have had nothing of value to write during my stay here. I have simply been in awe of all I love about this place my son calls home. I did write a short poem:

We have a fly,

I shall call him Fred.

I can't find a fly swatter

so I'll name him instead.

That is all. It has been a most excellent vacation away from home. I'm so glad I came.

Bliss

So little to write ... so much to appreciate ...

What more can I say?

I love it here!!