Balcony
Wake up. “Good morning, Presby.”
The sound of kibble tumbling into her food dish.
The smell of coffee dripping into my coffee cup.
Crunch, crunch. She takes a few bites. I take a sip.
She waits for me at the glass door, sitting, tail wrapped around her front paws.
One of us is dainty.
I open the door to slow motion, contemplative sniffs.
In winter, that’s all it is. In summer, though, we step outside.
I sit with my coffee and journal.
She eyes my lap and — pounce — we welcome the sunrise together.
This morning I sit on the balcony.
Cup of coffee, sunrise, but no gingercat on my lap.
It has been a week now.
I’ve been calling up fond memories of happier, healthier times.
I have lived a rich 16 years as being her person.
She found me late one hot evening on my way home from UPMC Presbyterian Hospital.
Little orange tabby toddling over and climbing in my lap. Love at first site.
Silent meows of kittenhood.
Gazing out from the sun porch to Frick Park, at the squirrels, birds, maybe even a turkey or deer,
On demand “Cat TV.”
Nose-to-nose with our neighbor’s Saint Bernard,
The excitement of changing bed linens,
Navigating road trips home from the car seat headrest,
Outsmarting our dog, Wrigley, every Christmas in Illinois,
Concussion physical therapist observing beads-on-a-string.
Board-certified feline.
Lap time (on her time).
Reading the Sunday New York Times feeling the warm glow of the fireplace.
Years into adulthood she found her meow
I somehow found my voice then too.
Express yourself. Boldly.
#ThisIsMyPgh became #LifeAt5280
Our life together in two special places.
City Park Jazz and a glass of wine,
Snoozing in Colorado sunbeams,
Watching the Tour de France each morning.
The joy of rolling on cool concrete,
Pawprints in freshly vacuumed gray carpet.
Opening the door to an earful after returning from a trip away.
Post-call ICU naps on the couch (sleeping in sunbeams),
Regular participation in Zoom meetings,
Pandemic comforter and therapist,
We survived year 1 of the pandemic together.
In her soft orange tabby fur, she embodied consistent love and kindness.
And living in the present moment.
The morning ritual continues.
Wake up. Coffee. I wake up my digital photo frame album: gingercat❤
I open the door, feel the cool, dry Colorado air, glance toward the pink ribbon on the eastern horizon and say,
“Good morning, Presby.”
