Letting Go

Yesterday morning, the youngest of our adopted kittens decided to sneak out and explore the great big world out there. Only four-months old and almost, but not quite, done with the vaccinations he’d need to be an outdoor feline fellow, his first outdoor adventure was scheduled for the beginning of March.

Little Sokolov had other ideas. A half-day later, with the sun going down and the temperature dropping, I notified the microchip company that he was officially lost. I notified the neighbors, and the original shelter he came from. I cried inside, stroked his brother and older sister who looked for him everywhere. DD and I walked the neighborhood, and I made a poster ready to be put up the nearby streets the next morning. 

As I was falling asleep, well past midnight, I thought about how I’d have to let go of this little guy. I thought about the work that kept me busy that day, revising (again, yup) my latest MG novel, and how I was not ready to let go of either and send them to the cold reality out there. I thought about DD, getting ready for auditions that will set her out into that same world of cold shoulders, indifference, and possible bruising encounters. I thought about DS, and how hard it was the first few weeks after he moved into his own place, only two miles away.

That’s a lot of letting go, and letting go- I must learn to do.

As the two kitties left behind snuggled up on top of me, they refused to give up the prime space on my chest and squeezed themselves against each other in a way I had never seen them do before. I made the conscious effort to breath as deeply as I could, (a real feat when you have fourteen pounds of cat on your chest) and said, repeatedly, “Thank you for the time we had together. Now go out and do wonderful things.”

I realized I was talking to little Sokolov, to DD, and to my novel, all at once.

I fell asleep as calm as a cucumber, if I could ever figure out this bizarre expression.

At three forty three in the morning, Sokolov marched in and plopped himself on top of the kitty-pile. Maybe he was not ready to let go. Maybe I am not, either. But if our time here is a journey worth having, I think I've seen a hint of a mile-post down the road.

And after posting here, I’m bouncing my fingers straight to the microchip company’s site to give the good news. He’s ba-a-a-ack!