The Cat

He is a lovely kitten. He is very young, a mere baby. He keeps his eyes closed all the time. And he is out there. From my couch in the living room, I just see a mound of fluff in the middle of my backyard. He curls into his own body. Intermittently his body shudders in the morning cold. I feel a motherly pang within me. I worry: why does he venture out to the open? Why can’t he stay cozy under the bush like his siblings?

He seems to remind me of what is to be done. It seems easy in retrospect to venture unprotected into the cold for the first time. Does it become easier the second time around?

I suddenly become aware of the many things. Like the passing time. Last week, someone suddenly mentions my age. I am also becoming aware of the structures that I have created for myself. Coming from a space of no framework or organization, I was scared that I could not become a proverbial cog in the wheel. And revolting as it sounds, I wanted to be the cog. And I loved the wheel. I could not but come to terms with the wheel. I schemed devious and largely successful ways to create order in my life. Things that my previous self would have found too restrictive and too suffocating.

In an attempt to break down the structures that I have created myself, I listen to new music. I travel both space and time. I especially loved discovering Tinariwen. Their nomadic sounds seem to taunt me to leave my cozy shelter and venture into warmer climes and harsher realities. This kitty was not made for the cold.

Tell me, Ténéré,
how you and I
Can remain united,
with no hate for each other.
Ténéré, I can now admit that
I have travelled far through this wide world.
Ténéré, I give you my oath
That as long as I’m alive,
I will always come back to you.