Photo: Ileana's cross-stitch 1992 |
This morning, as always, I fed my purring cat, my 14 year
old Bogart. He knows his name and perks up when I call him. While I clean his
litter box with a mask on, he touches my legs with his snow white paws. His
beautiful blue eyes stare at my face and my every move. Heavily co-dependent,
he meows for attention the whole time. He is so old that not even the birds
coming to the feeder outside seem to mind his presence – he has become part of
the landscape, a garden statue, a former threat who is no longer eager to chase
and kill anyone. I cannot imagine my mornings without him. He climbs the steps
painfully in synch with my steps, not an inch ahead. He turns his head sideways
to make sure I am right beside him like a child afraid to lose sight of his
mom.
We make strange attachments in life. My former literature
teacher in high school brought so much joy and light into our drab existence
with his lively presence and his violin. The lovely instrument came to life
when he touched the strings. He always chose a song he felt expressed the mood
of the characters and the story line in the piece of literature we were
studying. Some students, mischievous and immature, chuckled and snickered,
while the rest of us were mesmerized. He filled my heart with music and made my
imagination soar in the depth of despair and misery we lived every day. I felt
like an eagle for a few minutes, soaring to freedom in the blue sky.
He took his violin everywhere. Sadly, I forgot his name, but
etched in my memory are his snow white hair, his face, and his grey, well-worn,
but impeccably pressed suit. His expressive eyes would close with the softer
notes as if transported on the wings of an angel to a faraway place that
brought him inner happiness and peace. I’d like to think that somewhere in
Heaven my former literature teacher is playing music for the angels.
I sometimes close my eyes when I’m in the forest, surrounded
by dense trees, wild flowers, and birds chirping. I hear a symphony of masterful
sounds created by God and remember my teacher and his violin.
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