As I click on "compose-a-post" at the blogging website, I become excited. Of course there is a mixture of excitement and slight trepidation for I am never quite sure what will become the final posting. I have an idea as I start out - sometimes even an outline. I have something to say. For example, this morning as I looked out in the pale, light of dawn, I saw the garden below my third floor study. I peered down at the flower beds and over the tops of the shorter trees. Mimi sat up straight, almost to attention, as I approached the window, where she had been laying soaking up the fresh morning air. We both stared out and down. The ground looked soaked and on the rooftop the gutters were filled with water, rippling now and again with the last few drops from the late night storm the night before. I think I saw that the plants and blossoms were drooping their heads and bodies from the weight of all that rain, but I imagined when it first started falling they must have been reaching out their leaves and flowers to soak up the desperately needed rain after many days of exhausting heat.
Mimi pokes her head over the armrest of my chair as I type this post. She plays with my arm and meows gently. She needs breakfast, but I cannot seem to stop the flow of writing. I reach down, look in her eyes and smile. "I know. I'm coming," I say out loud, and she wanders towards the window on my right, jumping up on the soft yellow blanket awaiting her strong, young, furry body. There, she stares out at the trees watching and listening to the birds: cardinals, cat-birds, and robins - chirping, whistling, singing through the rain drenched leaves and branches. I stop and find myself hoping that their nests were not destroyed during the night of bright, snappy lightning and deep growling thunder, as it rained and rained and rained.
Well, I suppose I could have just written a brief "status update," on Facebook, or a short "tweet" on Twitter - perhaps, "My how it rained," or "Plants and flowers ecstatic this morning after the storm." You know ... headlines. Instead, I felt energy in my fingertips and brain, and needed to write more about it, going a little deeper. There's more, I am sure. Because as I write I feel a stirring from my dreams when I slept and woke in and out during the storm late last night and into the early morning. Something from my dreams is pushing me to write. I know something else is wishing its way out of my brain and onto this cyber page ... I can feel it in my stomach, sense it through the tingling in my fingertips, and slight burning sensation behind my eyes.
I look up and see Mimi sitting as still as a sphinx, her eyes half closed, with a patience that I yearn to experience. A solid acceptance of the here and now. Just waiting. Holding still. Until I rise to give her breakfast.
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