Spring is here and it perfumes the air. The hauntingly beautiful voice of Raina Rose fills the room from the tiny speakers of my Mac Desktop, the faint sound of milk foam popping as the bubbles settle into my coffee, the mist floating from the clouds to the treetops, the birds chirping, the humidity hanging in the air like a lovers arms that are holding you captive in bed, thankfully it’s still cool enough you don’t want to break away, just yet. A battle of the bands that seduces the senses that all seem to meet at the threshold of my apartment and the outside world.
My home is a private place. Although, my apartment, for the most part, is always set for company, but rarely does it see any. My front door is always open when I am home. No one ever comes to it, but this week, maybe it was the Spring air, or time giving a little push, something changed.
My neighbor, Jack, has been feeding a stray cat for about six months. He started out skittish, never allowing anyone near him, even Jack. I’ve tried to coax him closer to no avail. These last few days, his little heart has softened. Earlier this week, I was in my kitchen doing dishes and I went to my bedroom to grab something and there he was, sitting there as if to say, “Can I help you?” A couple days later, he sat on the threshold of my open front door and watched me as I tidied up my living room. Yesterday, he came in and sat just on the inside of my door and listened to me practicing a lullaby for a gig I have next week. He listened contently, ears perked, posture straight. When I was finished he lowered his head, as if to nod in a approval, before he left in search of other adventures.
“Cat” has started a new trend. Outside my door, I have an old wooden cart that holds my balcony garden. If my door is not open, “Cat” will climb up on this cart and stand on the potted plants. His head comes just above the window sill. He bats on the screen with his paw until I give him notice.
It’s just a cat, but I eagerly await our next encounter. Perhaps I am a cat lady in the making or he’s a symbol of good things to come. Either way Spring always brings new life, new meaning, just waiting to blossom.