Monday, September 22, 2003

A mother cat and her three kittens occupy the deck where I sit, an orange one by the name of "Angel" is sliding off my lap because there simply isn't room enough for them all to play there. They've been attacking my hoodie drawstrings and now "Sarah" has made herself comfortable on myh notebook, forcing me to write around her. There will soon be a kitten shaped white space on the page to the right of which I am currently writing.

I sit with my feet up on a stool, facing the front yard and a thick oak tree, while I listen to the neighbor on his quad. I can hear the neighborhood kids (most of whom belong to a single family) playing on the other end of the block. A dog is barking. A bird is calling. There is no other sound, save the rustling of the trees. No cars honking, no neighbors swearing, no sirens blaring. Sarah, my favorite kitten, looks up at me with wide eyes before laying her head down across her brother's neck and falling asleep. The dog has arrived home from escorting my brother around the block, and she lays down at my feet. The shadows have become long and the air is chilly but I remain, basking in the idyllic sounds and smells that make country living so pleasant.

My dad opens the window behind me to ask me what movie I'd like to watch. The dog yawns and relocates to the grass.

At this moment, I am content. Needing to shift myself around, I remove the kittens one at a time from my lap, and one by one they climb back on. My dad strolls out and sits beside me, and I can smell his cologne. His hair is still wet from his bath and he's barefoot, wearing a robe despite the chill in the air. "Heeeeeeere comes Jack!!" he says, "Jack Frost, and he's coming for YOU!" He's got that crazy look in his eyes. He's referring to the weather of course, and before long he goes back inside.

The mosquitos have grown quite persistent, and I decide to do the same.

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