Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy

Good Morning!

It is Cinco de Mayo, a day that, in these times, seems to be more about margaritas, guacamole and tortilla chips than a battle won.

This morning I was lying in bed when I heard squeak, squeak. I perused my memory banks and remembered no squeak toys in the house, so figured we were dealing with a mouse, and yes, Tiger was on the hunt and Bella was concerned. Since I live in an impressionistic world until contacts anchor detail in my eyes, all I knew was that there was something besides Tiger, Bella and me in the room. Naturally, Steve is in NY. We seem to have this level of excitement when he is gone.

As I put my contacts in, the chase went to the kitchen, where the squeaking stopped and there a little creature lay with dainty limbs outstretched and body already stiffening on the floor. I took my new, small, departed friend out to the yard reflecting on death. A friend of mine is involved in a battle with her niece over coins. I understand the sentimental value of these coins and I understand the battle is what the coins represent as to love of one now departed, but all I could see as she spoke was bones turned to ash and what may be a rising smoke of soul.

It was odd then to place this little mouse in the yard where a crow already stood waiting. Around here, dead things don't last long. We bury our departed pets very deep to ensure them slow rest to transition.

Calenorn posts David Brooks column this morning and comments on the importance of a two-party system. We want the Republicans to ..... and I'll let you insert the phrase of where their heads might now be better placed.


We live more consciously because we see death. I hold that little mouse in my heart. Tiger was just playing with him, batting him/her around. There was no intention to kill. My cats are well-fed, and yet, the little mouse is already transitioning through a crow, and oddly this morning, the bird song sounds like squeaks. I am surrounded with squeaks this morning, as another day creaks open the door. The day is soft gray. Water drips from the needles of the redwood tree and my being is grateful to stroke the petals of life as death nudges what surely must be a high thread count case covered pillow a little closer.

We come together in battle and celebrate what we see as victory and I think it is important to remember and honor each mouse, each squeak.


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