Every summer my neighbor goes on vacation and leaves me in charge of her house. Usually this entails watering her deck plants and her many gardens. This year I am also in charge of minding the little birdies outside, (their bath and feeder), her two turtles, and her cat (huge, orange, and pushy- reminiscent of a baby tiger).
Twice a day I escape from the noise and busyness of life. I slip out in rain, in soul-soaring wind, and in dazzling sunshine and midst the quiet of her serene, deserted house I mind the beasties.
The turtle greats me with splashes. The cat rubs its head on my foot.
I find myself getting cozy, as if this house were a gift- a sanctuary prepared for me. Habitually I sing. The house has seen me in tears, in dreamy reflections, in haste, in leisure, in fear, in worship, and (as was the case today) in delighted joy.
“Hello, you.” The cat annoys me, but I don’t let him know. Instead I scratch behind his ears. In a closet I discover a broom and clean up the mess he’s made. I get him his wet food and his dry food and his water and wait patiently for him to finish so I can rinse out his bowl.
The sky is blue. And in the high ceilings my notes ring like missives of peace-
Sunshine on my shoulders
makes me happy
Sunshine on my eyelids
can make me cry...
I am laughing, because I feel a bit like Snow White. And as such I am allowed a wish: Please, no hidden cameras.