As I type this, T, myself and Daisy the kitty are on our way up North to see his family. Yes, we’re taking the cat (my neighbour is very kindly looking after my nine). She’s done very well apart from enforcing a pit stop (or as T called it, a “shit stop”).
The thought of my boyfriend wanting to take his cat to meet his Mum is so endearing – one of the things I love about him and am grateful for is his understanding of my relationship to my cats and theirs with me. He has a similar relationship with his kitty.
Writing whilst in the car is a novelty for me and one that may remain so (it’s a little nausea-inducing), not helped by the fact that the “a” and “c” keys are now missing, along with another (thankfully less used) key – thanks Cat Tribe.
I am not sure that 2013 can be easily classfied – it’s been horrendous for many people, challenging for some and for the remainder, a pretty mixed bag. Maybe the Mayans had a point.
Things I have learned this year:
(i) I can’t write in a moving car.
(ii) I can’t write when stone cold sober.
(iii) This blog post may therefore be very short.
In all seriousness:
(i) I used to believe in benevolent universe where in most cases, a kind of natural justice pervaded overall. I’m not sure anymore that this is the case. A combination of too many good people lost, along with continued exposure to the numerous awful ways some humans take pleasure in the pain and suffering of their fellow animals and other humans just refuse to face it means that so much goes without justice of any kind.
(ii) That each time you lose a person, you lose a piece of yourself too. With my parents, it was the loss of shared memories, the loss of knowing what questions to ask, the stories they told so many times I relegated them to a portion of my mind that I now cannot retrieve. With Greg, it was a shared sense of humour, a shared sense of justice, memories of when we really socked it to those who deserved it and a sense of having my back protected, always.
(iii) That shit things happen to good people, over and over again and there is nothing you, me or anyone else can do except be there for them. And sometimes (often) that’s just not good enough.
I’m tempted to do the type of “things I am thankful post” but in truth, in all ways, I am simply thankful that most of us made it out alive and I mourn those who didn’t.
Here’s hoping 2014 is better, for all of us.