Many Long Minutes on Many Long Days

I have pondered, in isolation, for many long minutes on many long days, what is gone and what remains, what we have lost and what we’ve gained.

The scope and nature of isolation, of course, is subjective.

I strolled, under the April sun, alone with my phone, and stumbled upon a cat who makes a home of an outdoor gym. From what I gather she lives a rather dignified life. I imagine she’s very fit. She saw me and I saw her. And I knew something was right. She galloped toward me, sat beside me, and butted her head against my shoulder. She was seeking the company and companionship that so many have lacked in these rather lonely times.

I spent many long minutes on many long days in the company of this cat — although, her attention span is short, and so is mine.

One cloudy afternoon I stopped by the park and looked around the tree where, by adverse possession or otherwise, she seems to have staked her claim. She was asleep.

I wasn’t sure what to do or say. The tables had turned: where, once she sought my attention, I now sought hers. I vocalized something to see if she would react, and she did. She lazily, groggily opened her eyes to narrow slits, as though half-asleep and half-awake, and wholly irritated.

I put up my hands with my palms facing her, as though to signal, “calm down.” I said to her, rather awkwardly, “sorry,” forgetting for a moment that she likely doesn’t speak English — or, hoping for a moment that she does.