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His head looks so big because he’s too skinny.” She is knelt down next to him, but not too close, barely touching him. “Oh, he’s so skinny-he must not have a home. I stand inside for a moment and eventually move to the doorway with the door nearly shut behind me so Isabel, the cat that lives with us, doesn’t run out. “I don’t want to scare him off,” she says. She grabs the cat food and rushes outside, sprinkling it on the ground. Julie is absolutely and utterly excited about the prospect of another cat. He walks right up the steps onto the back patio. “What?” she says, running into the kitchen, leaning toward the window. “Oh look, a black cat,” I yell to my partner, Julie. He’s a tiny little thing with bright green eyes.
#Lightwrite roll back windows
One Sunday evening I am staring at nothing out the front windows in the kitchen and see a small black cat, sauntering-yes, he is sauntering-up the left set of stairs. It’s a 1950s bungalow, remodeled in 1950s style and color, painted a fresh bright mint green, a brown door with three beveled glass windows in it, white trim and two taupe colored stairways leading up from the sidewalk. My home sits in the middle of a block in north Portland, Oregon. I think it all adds up, all the grief, you remember, even if you don’t remember consciously your body remembers and while I do believe if you work with it and acknowledge it, it helps in the letting go – there are still times that it comes back. It’s hard to imagine me at 11 processing these feelings on my own. I’ve thought about this time in my life a lot lately.