"Who knows where the time goes.." is a popular refrain from an old Judy Collins song. I just checked and I realized I hadn't written in here since March. Hark! Not acceptable!
This post isn't so much about the kitties. They're doing fine, but the preparations for summer, trees now completely leafed out and critters in adorable abundance. It's a happy time of year where the fun is more celebratory, even if you don't take part. You watch, remembering how in the not so distant past, you grabbed the gusto and never wanted to let go.
And you didn't. The gusto has aged along with you. It goes a little deeper. It's more expectant of quality. It dislikes b.s. with a passion and delusion with an insane desire to scream.
Somehow, I feel the cats have known this all along. Their acceptance of the simple things a clear indication of how important those things are. Sunlight streaming through a window, a toy to chase and the contentment of enjoying things in the moment, when nothing else matters.
And to be kept, either tangibly or in spirit.
Fed, spoiled, catered to with treats, laughter and soft pillows, purring with happiness, knowing full well that life should be lived no other way.