Thoughts of Henry today, and Derek.  Thoughts of Aunt Jan and Uncle Charlie.  Thoughts of those lost.  And those soon to be lost.

Stumbling in a dark place of torment, a place between the shadow and the soul where true love exists, defined not by three words, not by action, not by thought, but defined only by being.

Here rest memories of loves taken, loves betrayed, and loves still before me.

My mind finally circles to a quote I read some time ago on another blog.  It read, “The only guaranteed protection against the torment of grief is to never love another individual, and those who make this choice walk down a silent road on their way to nowhere.”^[1]

I rock gently in my own embrace, those words echoing in my mind as my heart aches for that which can never be regained.

Then I begin to fear for that which has yet to be lost but most surely will be so in time.

I open my eyes.

Kazon sits and watches me, his golden eyes “ablaze as they [pierce] me to the core, to the very part of me that defines who I am.  And I, in my weak and human way, [stare] back, my eyes empty save the love I [feel] for him, like that as a father feels for a child.

“I [melt] in that moment, in those eyes, in the love that [hangs] heavy between us and [makes] the air thick with affection.  It [lies] upon me like wet cotton resting against bare skin.  This child, this feline, this predator who so ably controls my every whim with but a look from those golden eyes… he [holds] my essence in his view on a burning cold day with nothing but sunbeams defining the time.”

I will not travel the silent road to nowhere.  I will gladly succumb to the pain and anguish, time and time and time again, and I will do so intentionally, and I will seek that torment’s precursor in new loves until it is I who am lost to others.

So I shout in my mind to silence the emptiness that bemoans what once was.  Even as the thoughts of what death has taken finally disappear back into the night from which they came, I tremble briefly at the thought of losing more.

— — — — — — — — — —

[1] First seen here and attributed to C.R.H.

Never could I describe to you the overwhelming joy of such moments.  Never could I explain the unspoken words communicated in such affectionate caresses.

[Kazon]

One must love a cat on its own terms.

— Paul Gray

[Kazon]

I take the time every now and then to grab a box for The Kids.  Whether it be at the liquor store or the office, I think of them constantly and understand their need to enjoy a bit of enclosure.

Presently, four boxes rest about the homestead.  Kazon has claimed the two newest ones for his own use.

Oddly enough, he’s too large for one and just right for the other.  Do you think he cares?  Not!

This is Mr. Man in the box that is too small for him.  I wish I’d captured a better photo of how cramped he looks.  It seems terribly uncomfortable.

I never close the blinds on any windows save the one behind my desk (because several pieces of furniture and a lot of wires and cords make it a hazard).  I can’t imagine ever robbing The Kids of an opportunity to wallow in sunshine or to peer out with rapture on the goings on of the weather and wildlife that make this place magical.

And not one of my furry little children ignores the opportunities made available by wall-to-wall real-life television.

My sincere hope rests in giving them even more to watch and enjoy when we finally move to a rural area.  More important even than the windows, however, I desire with the whole of my heart to find a place with a screened-in porch where they can do more than watch from within.  I so hope we eventually land in a new home where they can spend time with me outside, but not outside, where they can enjoy fresh air as it rustles their fur, where the beauty of nature can truly embrace them without exposing them to the dangers of life in the big world.

[Kazon]