Every day, it piles. All I need to tell you. All I haven’t. Some of it is trivial. I have a cat. Her nails are long. She scratches me. Some of it is important. I have a cat. Her nails are long. She scratches me. And it is this repetition of both, in both, that is important: I miss you I miss you I miss you both big and small.
This is part of growing, I am told. Missing things and if lucky, being missed by them in return. After a long day of the thick untold, my cat stands at the door way to greet me. How lucky it will be to one day meet you when finally, totally, and still not enough, we will be able to talk again. It can be about nails or who you nailed. I am happy to sit near you like a cat, listening, waiting, missing nothing.