I left my Gracie Kitty in Blacksburg when I went home in early July. This was a premeditated, and temporary, drop. For one, she enjoys having stairs to travel up and down. And however self-deprecating, I believe she takes guilty pleasure in Goober somehow (Lord knows how). And, well, I’m going to be gone for over a week at the end of August and my parents have free neighborly child care. Bonus.
They (the omniscient) say animals have no discerning sense of time. For example, Gracie won’t *know* or *feel* how long we’ve been apart. When I magically appear back on the scene she’ll come a’runnin’ with love and “have I got stories for you!” meow meows. One can only hope. Though, I smell a self-help lesson here. This whole “time doesn’t elapse for me” thing causes pause.
Don’t let measly ol’ time box you in? Live in the moment? Always bask in no more life than you can handle right now? Or now? Or now? Orrrr, should we be thankful we have thought that is capable of going backward and forward? We always seem to want more time. Greedy bastards. But what would we do with it that we shouldn’t already be doing anyway? Miles and miles away Gracie is cruising around the homestead not missing me at all. And I, prostrate to time, am headed for bed. Must arise early and begin again.