My sweet Bubber sent a dozen hand-dipped strawberries to me yesterday. While so thoughtful of him, I know the money situation squeezes him. I admit though the thought cheered me tremendously.
Pogo and Momo's shedding marathon appears over for the moment. The canister on the vacuum swirled mostly with dirt this time.
Pogo's inner kitten escaped yesterday. He killed that "bird" about a dozen times, even had feathers stuck to his lip. The boys romped through the apartment and then shared a thorough bath, each helping the other with unreachable areas. Ah, the good times.
Connie got stuck on the ice in front of my apartment last night. A kind young man from upstairs came and pushed her out. Thank heavens chivalry lives yet. The rest of the ice should melt today and tomorrow. Temps should hit the 50s. Heat wave!
My sister in sensitivity and I had a wonderful talk this morning. She has a good head on her, as my grandmother used to say. Partners in grief, she possesses the maturity to help me along the process, and I hope I return the favor.
In some ways, grief demands privacy. The precious moments I spent with you I tuck away in my mind. The joy of sharing a match together replays when I am missing you. But some moments gain strength in the retelling. A solid shoulder to lean on, someone to say "me too." Validation of my feelings and hers, too. Karma plays out in good ways, not just bad.
Missing you.
Later.
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