The cat runs to greet me when I come inside the house. It’s true that he mainly wants treats. But if I pick him up and hold him like a baby, he purrs and relaxes as I rub his back. If I go into my room and put up the blinds, he will gladly jump onto the pillow I have above the ornamental floor heater. If the sun hits him, he will stretch out there, claiming his spot. The six or seven prisms I have handing in the window often illuminate him and the room. As I sit here and look over at him sunning in the window, a couple of hundred rainbows scatter all across the room. Outside, a dozen birds sing and chirp around the feeder and birdbath.
There’s a half of a cup of coffee to my left. I’m sitting here, my mind wandering to a millions ideas and places. It paces, even as my eyes feel heavy. I’d lay on the floor and nap if I thought there was a chance of success for the endeavor. I’ve been stuck in a bit of a zombie mode, waiting on good sleep to immobilize me for a night. Or a month.
Though I don’t celebrate my birthdays, my fifty-fourth is on top of me.
I remain here, looking out the window. My coffee grew cold while I daydreamed.