I know my life
is a little empty when a stray cat in my backyard is a big event. I am watching it slink up to my back door. Now it is looking in and I am looking back. It is the color of fog and has a long equine face. If I were engrossed in my work in the way that I think I should be this cat would have no impact on me. But my son is home sick from school after enormous existential debate on our part: is he sick enough to stay home? How much of a headache warrants a sick day? Are we making the right ethical theological pragmatic sensible good mother decision? Am I a good mother? This is not one of the questions we were addressing out loud, but it is always in the back of my mind. If I were a good mother, then . . . Then, what? He would choose to watch Truffault movies instead of Bruce Willis movies. He would enjoy taking walks outside and observing the changes in the seasons with his calm nature observing mother (me). He would Love to practice his instrument and I would never ever raise my voice or shame him about his passion for all things electronic. Instead I would be quietly taking him on mountain hikes. I would also grow all of our food and we would harvest it together. However, in real life I just told him to go away and so now he is issuing updates on his health from the couch and I am avoiding the last years of Mary Shelley’s life. No wonder the cat is so appealing.