Recently I rescued a postcard of a nearly-frozen kitty on top of Mount Washington in New Hampshire from a box of my most important papers. I sent it off through the mail, and it was received and loved and offered a spacious and beautiful home in which to live, right out in the world. Like lighting a torch at noon.
Here and there I think about Ritchie Havens singing “Freedom” at Woodstock. With its line, “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.” Did the postcard kitty feel like that? And what’s that make me?
What’s freedom? I carried and lugged and tucked and held and invited along the nearly-frozen kitty for decades. Decades! I never let go of her – her place among the most important, even if she cost something like 59 cents way back when. Possibly it’s love coming in many different wrapping papers.
The nearly-frozen kitty is for sure loved these days. Included. You hear people talk about “inclusion” like it’s a noun. Pretty much heavy thinking is beyond me at 74. Check with the kitty. She knows. I’m just really lucky to be out here playing amidst all the wonder Mother Nature offers each day. Which includes generosity. Offering a hand. “Here you go.”