Rocky the golden cat sits snoozing on the absolute edge of my desk, his old, battered face nodding momentarily, then coming abruptly awake to stare at the buzz of an insect or the yammer of another cat.
On television, Stewie Griffin writes his memoirs, blaming a man dressed in white for all his ills; meanwhile Brian chases the Purina Dog Chow wagon into a sack of dog food.
A menagerie of plush animals and beasties stare mutely at me. I rest an eye on one of them and let my imagination wander. What if Frida Kahlo had been able to talk with a hedgehog? Would the communication have altered her understanding of the universe? Would hedgehogs have occupied her paintings, bristling in mock threat, shielding her from love’s pain?
The cable modem blinks a rapid connection. In Honduras, Marc Lacey and Ginger Thompson of The New York Times tell me there is a mystery in the return of deposed leader Manuel Zelaya. I read through their report and ponder parts of it aloud.
The Chinese food I ate earlier has left me hungry two hours later. Typical. I dream of Denny’s, of saying to hell with sensible diet and splitting an appetizer plate with a friend.
Books I am reading wink at me from the shelf, but I have no time for them this evening. Work will wait until morning. Even this entry, cobbled together in a moment of tenderness, robs me of intimacy.
She is here. We could actually split the aforementioned food if we wanted. We can touch or not touch as we choose. We can stare and smile at one another without a wall of technology between us.
Moments like this are holy, holy, holy. They make me want to chant the om mani padme hum until I achieve Nirvana.
I look across the small distance between us and stare at her. She sits wrapped in a pale robe over a matching nightgown. In a few minutes she’ll stumble off like a sleepy protesting toddler into the guest room where she’ll rest until morning. But now she stares back at me, wrinkles her nose and asks, “What, baby? What?”
Everything is suddenly holy. All the world is touched with kindness.
Earlier today we passed figurines in a Target store and she asked, “Do you want a Buddha?” Who could have guessed then that the Buddha would dwell in my heart this evening?
In the morning I won’t feel this way. The day’s cares will creep in and choke this bliss. But for now I revel in it.
The golden cat leaps from the desk onto her chair and she scratches his head.
He gets it. He does indeed.
[...] grocery shopped, to kiss goodbye when I headed to a meeting, and embrace hello when I returned. You called the time together holy, and indeed it [...]