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04/24/2025

03/30/2025

06/05/2024

I saw my mom today in the nursing home. I see her often, but she's, many times, drowsy or not coherent enough to have a conversation. Today, she was alert and aware, and even asking questions. She asked about the cat, among other things, which made me remember a past situation I wrote about...the time her cat went missing in the house we shared with my brother. I don't know if she was asking about this cat or the one my brother rescued from the side of the interstate, the one that lives with me now, but I showed her pictures of both. When I got home, I located this story. Thought some of you might appreciate it. Wish my mom was still home with me.

Cat Hunting

I have been cat hunting this morning. I was awakened this A.M., at 5:00, by a panicked mother, who lives with me in the house we share with my brother. She is speaking in a language I only hear when the cat has gone missing. I jumped out of bed and confirmed the situation, led her to the basement where said cat is supposed to be, and began calling its name. This cat showed up on our deck some years ago and made itself at home. We called it Miss Cat. Cat for short.

By this time, Mom’s freaking out, standing in the cold basement with her hair sticking up all over and her voice at a pitch only dogs can hear. So, I’m trying to calm her down as I drag a ladder to where she last saw recalcitrant Cat in the ceiling rafters, reading her lips 'cause I can no longer understand anything she says.

Mom grabs a rake and begins poking a bulge in insulation hanging down from the basement ceiling—a cat-sized bulge. Poking it hard, but it doesn’t move. I remind her that if that’s Cat, it's too late and poking won’t help. Uh—bad move. She tears up as I take the rake from her hand and assure her that Cat is still alive. My heart beats faster, because I’m not sure I’ve told her the truth. I desperately look for Cat again.

I climb the ladder in my bare feet and hear a soft mewl. Calling Cat, I’m still unable to locate her so I stick my hand into a mass of fiberglass insulation, catching a hind leg and attempting to disengage it from a rafter. Cat is not happy. I am not happy. Screeching and clawing ensues, and that's just me, as I pull, carefully, on the only appendage I can reach, in order to get Cat out of this ungodly small space she has held for who knows how long.

Cat is howling. Mom is urging me to be careful, and I am shivering in my t-shirt while trying to keep my balance and make Cat feel secure enough to let go of her almost out of reach rafter. More fiberglass all over me. My hands are sore by the time I get Cat's surprisingly strong paws away from her hiding place. I climb down the ladder and deliver Cat, who's looking reproachfully at me, into Mom's outstretched arms.

Thankfully, Mother is happy, crying, cuddling and talking softly to Cat, having made it dead and buried in her mind until the rescue. My irritation faded away as I watched her love on Cat, and I smiled and hugged her. Then, we gave Cat a bath and took showers to rid ourselves of the fiberglass.

I don't know why I thought of this situation so strongly today. I guess it was because I wish I could take my cat into her place, but he's not used to lots of people around. I need to find an organization with animals that routinely visit nursing homes.

05/20/2024

Church today made me think of many things, but it gave me an idea for fixing this poem that I've not completed. Hope you like it. It will also be in my book.

Advancing Time

The child who plays today in sand
Will one day lie beneath this land
Right now small feet trudge along
But, turn around—she will be gone

This child grows up, a woman, fast
Not noticing the time that’s passed
Not seeing life’s reality:
She’s growing toward eternity

Where does she think it all will end?
A life that goes on without end?
Why can’t she stop and contemplate?
She is mortal—time won’t wait

Time is passing, time won’t wait
Time respects no plan
Days sleep, then wake—never, ever late
To roll across the land

Hours race by, unrestrained
Relentlessly advance
Toward some unknown, nameless aim
In a universal dance

Nameless you say? An unknown aim?
The Author of time asks
There’s nothing in this world of Mine
Without purposeful plans

So fear not time, nor its end
The Maker bids me see
For every second’s in My Hands
As is eternity

You are My special, precious child
Each hair…I know the number
Each day that rolls across your life
I know and count and ponder

Yes, days are short, earth time flies
Time, it moves too fast
Yet, when time ends, real life begins
Real life will never pass

The days you spend upon this earth
It’s all within my Plan
I know the day, I know the hour
When in eternity you’ll stand.

I know the day, I know the hour
When I will take your hand

Copyright Sheila L Stephens