We held a small memorial for a little creature whose ability to receive love taught us all a big lesson: to love is to name is to care is to keep. It is to mourn and to cry, too; and it is to continue to create and care about the living and the dying and the not-yet-born.
One does not need to do anything remarkable to be an object of love. One only needs to be that which it is – cat, boy, mom, dad, human, alive.
I sat before the computer for long, silent minutes. Fingers hovered, stiff yet from the night’s sleep, but ready and waiting, waiting for a message. My mind, my heart: there lie the problems in the wordlessness of this morning. The busy, flurried constant movement of life makes me lack focus, holds my fingers still and my voice mute but my mind and heart and the person within me that seeks to be skips about in the constant movement trying to gain purchase. I am squinting in an attempt to focus but I lose it amidst the fray. I can’t even define what IT is this morning.