Kickin' & Screamin'

Happy belated New Year to all….as it’s been since October since I’ve collected some coherent thoughts to share. I fear that COVID and the drastic change it has brought to our lives has killed more of my brain cells than I care to admit. I’m not proud of my three month gap in writing (though I do it all the time–this time it’s bothering me) and I’m determined to write more this year. Come on, 2021…give me some stuff. Some hot topics. Some deep thoughts. Funny stuff. Something.

I got a little lazy towards the end of the year. Don’t we all? –just a little? The holidays get me every time. I blame it on the extra sugar…all the baking, the cakes and Christmas cookies. The sugar convinces my brain that I need a nap more than I need a workout. So, like seven million other people in the world, I got my act together as the New Year hit. Back to my daily walks and hikes. Good for the body, good for the soul.

On any day I can, I prefer to hike in the woods. I’m at home there. If I believed in reincarnation, I’d want to come back as a creature who lived there….a bird, squirrel, maybe a raccoon. (and immediately as I typed that my mind began to whirl…..”no, wait! I’d want to come back as a dog or cat and live with someone who spoils their animals as much as I do…living my best life”…..jeez….this is opening up a whole new book of thoughts). ANYWAY…(focus, Mary….) YES–the woods. I’m at home there. When I hike, they are MY woods….and everyone I pass by is just a visitor. A little possessive, yes…. but that’s just how much I love the woods. I claim them as mine whenever I visit.

Quite often, though, there’s just no time for that…and I take my daily walk on the road where I live. A nice little neighborhood. Killer hill towards the beginning of my road…always a challenge on those leg muscles. To make sure I don’t cheat and turn back early, I tell myself I must go all the way up to the stop sign. A couple of days ago, my legs were particularly unhappy and I was tempted to stop and turn around…that downhill return was going to feel so good. But no…gotta keep going. All the way to the stop sign. Must touch the stop sign before you can return. So I go and go until I literally touch the stop sign. As I do, I look up and see it. A strip of red tape stuck to the red sign. My tape. I put it there. About a year and a half ago during a very sad time for my daughter and I. One of our precious cats, Jimmie, had gone missing. I made up a dozen flyers and hung them up all around our neighborhood and neighboring roads. I hung each flyer with red tape. I comforted Ella as she cried each day for a couple of weeks. The tears started to fade, as did our hope of ever seeing Jimmie again. After six weeks, my flyers were weathered and faded. Driving by several of them each day as I took Ella to school, we decided that it was time to take them down. I retraced my steps and found each of the twelve flyers I’d hung. Ripping them down in tears and utter sadness, I didn’t bother to remove my red tape. I was angry. I was heartbroken. I just wanted my flyers to be gone, as seeing them was no longer a sign of hope…anticipating the possibility of someone seeing Jimmie’s face on the flyer and calling us to say they’d found her. They had become a horrible reminder that Jimmie was gone. I ripped them down, one by one, and threw them away in a trash can at the local gas station. I remember crying as I put gas in my car that day. I knew I’d never see Jimmie again. And, unfortunately, I was right. We’ll never know what happened to Jimmie. She was a bit of a loner. A quiet cat who enjoyed her privacy. So, we tell ourselves that she just got tired of our crazy house. Ella and myself (neither of us are quiet), three dogs and several more cats….just too much for little Jimmie. We tell ourselves that she ventured out the pet door to find a quiet place to live. We picture her living with someone else. Because we can’t picture her not being in this world anymore. We just can’t. When you’ve been through tough times like we have, you do whatever you can to imagine good stuff….good stuff over bad stuff, whenever possible. I imagine Jimmie wandering up to the home of an older lady. She’d always wanted a cat. She lives a quiet life and spoils Jimmie rotten. They cuddle in a chair together each night. They are extremely happy together. This lady never saw my flyers…and never knew that Jimmie belonged to someone else. Jimmie refused to keep her collar on, so the lady had no way of knowing. She just felt like “it was meant to be.” And maybe it was. That’s what we like to believe. Call it pretend….call it crazy. Whatever. It’s our story and we’re sticking to it.

All of this ran through my mind for the remainder of my walk that day. That piece of red tape represented a story. The story of a sad time. But–a sad time that we survived. I’ve been in and out of the neighborhood several times since….both on foot and in the car. I’ve quickly developed a habit of looking at that strip of red tape every time I stop at the sign. A reminder. A mark. I guess I could try to get the tape off the sign. It would probably come right off. But I don’t want it removed. I like it. Reminders are good. We need to be reminded of hard times….to be thankful for the good times. I see that tape and I miss Jimmie. Then I return home and I give my remaining animals extra love and hugs. I think of others who have lost pets and humans like I have. We’re a team. A club. We have all left marks on the world. One of my marks just happens to be a piece of tape on a sign.

As I took Ella to school this morning, I knew that I’d be sitting down to write this as soon as I returned home. I finally felt the urge to write that I’d been missing for too long. It was rainy and foggy as I returned home, but I had an urge to stop and see the red tape before I wrote. I pulled my car off the road and got out….wondering if the neighbors were watching, but not really caring. I touched the tape and said goodbye to Jimmie. I needed closure. I tugged at the tape just a little. It was stuck really good. I’m glad. I want it left there. It’s one of my many marks on the world. I’ll be sad if the stop sign is replaced one day. I might just have to make a mark on the new one. A good mark, I hope. Maybe a funny sticker or some googly eyes.

I returned to my car and came home to write. I plopped down in the chair I always sit in to write, with Kramer in my lap. Kramer, the little brown tabby cat that ALWAYS sits in my lap as I type, is Jimmie’s son. Just know that–since I’ve had Kramer– every blog of mine you’ve ever read has been typed with my arms stretched out to my laptop, over the top of a purring cat. Not easy, but I’d expect nothing less. Kramer has always been a “in your face” kind of cat, but he definitely became more clingy when Jimmie left. At first, I thought it was because he was sad. But who am I kidding?? He’s clingy for ME. He knows. He’s comforting me. I don’t care who you are…cat person or not…it’s true. He knows and I know he knows.

We don’t deserve animals.

But– thank you, God….for allowing us to have them.

You’ve left lots of marks in the world too. Yours are probably fancier and more interesting than tape on a stop sign. But whatever they are….leave them. Don’t try to remove them. Don’t try to hide them or cover them up. They tell your story. Like a scar. Be proud that you’ve survived. Be happy that you are still here to tell the story of where that mark came from.

God bless….and I’ll be back soon. I don’t do New Years resolutions…but I do vow to write more. Keep walking and keep writing. Otherwise, I fear I’d lose my mind. What do you vow to keep doing?? What keeps you sane? No matter what, just keep on keeping on. The sun has come out since I’ve been writing. What started as a foggy and dreary morning has become a beautiful, sunny day. Perfect. I plan to enjoy it and I hope you do the same.

Peace.