Letting go is HARD. Especially when letting go of what or who we love. I didn’t quite understand this with inanimate things. Those are, for the most part, easy for me to let go of. Sure, there are one or two I cling to. My journal. My guitar. My sketch books. Yet with all that, if I HAD to leave it tomorrow, I’d manage better than I’m managing right now in bringing my cat back to the human family I adopted her from.
She chirps, runs through the apartment at odd hours of the night and day, and does all other manner of cat things perched atop her cat tree. Including, just this moment, sleeping with her eyes half open, staring at me from the very top platform.
And I’m crying again. This was supposed to be an eloquent, or at least decently planned farewell. Because I’ve got to get dressed and start packing up her stuff so we can take her to Salt Lake City to meet up with the woman I adopted her from. It’s a day of mixed sadness and peace, because as much as I’d love to keep her, I know it’s better for her to find a true forever home, and I just can’t provide her that with any certainty right now.
So farewell, Sinbad. You’ll live on in my life through my writing. You’ll be Kyath’s cat now.