Saturday, May 3, 2014

IT'S NOT ABOUT CATS

     It's early morning. I got out of the bed to be the first one to the laptop. 
     The garden is fresh and green behind the living room's glass sliding door. Quiet too. My cat, Chicken Bone, lies in front of it, his front paws f
Lazy Chickie
olded under his chest, watching a flock of tiny birds outside. They found something on the cement of the patio and keep darting from the air to the ground and up again, unimaginably quick and light. Chickie is old, he's been 'an inside cat' for more than a decade, but his hunter instincts are still alive. His mouth seems to get pried open without his volition, and strange chatter emits from his throat. It sounds, kind of, like a bird too! 

   
Sylvie followed me here from the back of the house. She is a very odd cat. In addition to the usual catty personality, she seems to possess some of the menopausal woman's character traits! One can't walk close to her without hearing her quiet but disturbing yowl. She loves me, but is very changeable
with everybody else. Even if she looks happy when you scratch and pet her, she can turn on  you in a moment! She often sits and stares at me, as if to say: "Do you really want me?!" That makes me remember my mother: she had the same piercing green eyes and the same look of aggression and anguish.

   
     





     We talked with Mr. P. about her (my mother) at our last session. I hope that you had a chance to read my story Rimka, written last year in May. It's about my parents' upbringing and lives. I have no doubt that my mother loved me. She suffered from the feelings of abandonment and insecurity her whole life span and, finally, affected her own family in very negative ways because of that baggage.  It's so sad, how we hurt those that we love the most and wish to care for the most! I came to realize that, it is from the skewed relationship with mom I got my defiance for rules and the very fundamentals of successful life. What will my kids carry into their futures from living with me and their father? Oh, the sins of the fathers... and mothers...
My mother and little Hanah.


 

No comments:

Post a Comment