Dear Reader,
My cat chose me.
Abby was a stray and I guess, one day, she simply decided she was tired of living in the streets, wanted a home, and she chose mine. Just a little bit of a thing, still a baby really, she'd sit in my driveway and meow. Her cries were so sweet. When I'd hear them, I couldn't resist going outside to see what she wanted. I'd give her some food, pet her, then snuggle for a few minutes and I'd go back inside. (I didn't want to encourage her too much, because I assumed she belonged to someone.)
But the little bundle of joy didn't give up, she knew how things were supposed to be. Day after day, she'd sit in my driveway, watching through my sunroom window while I worked. Soon she'd call out to me and as our usual routine, I'd go to see her--but then finally, one day, we came back inside together. Yes, Abby chose me.
Maybe other things in life would choose me, too, if I let them? Maybe I don't need to spend so much time trying to figure things out ahead of time? After all, I do my best writing when I don't really think about it. One key, then another, the words come easily when I don't think about them. When I do have trouble writing, it's me that's standing in the way. But thankfully, just like Abby, the words are patient because they know where they belong.
To see sweet Abby, click here.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]
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