Another stressful day at work but I'm driving to my Mum's house now and getting better with every green light that takes me to sanctuary from my daily prison. The weight lifts as I approach the roundabout at the end of my journey. "Give way to traffic from the right" is what I must do. I wait for the traffic on my right as they wait for all the traffic on theirs. It's taking longer than I'd want but I'm almost feeling like myself again now, I can handle a little waiting. Their traffic passes but I can't rush on without letting my right hand traffic pass in turn. Two more cars go through when behind me, I hear the loud disturbing beep of the driver's horn behind me. I am furious! I have to swallow my rage instead of shouting back towards them, "Give way to traffic from the right you muppet!" It only took two cars longer, that's all they had to wait.
Now I'm on edge and indignant as I pull up in my road. It's because even when I know I'm right I'm easily filled with self-doubt: "I had to wait for my traffic to pass, there was no other correct way, WAS THERE?!?!?! And that's where the anger comes from. If I know when I'm right, even when I am I'd have no need to be angry. I could just smugly think "what a pratt" and in seconds be rid of this mental grievance.
As I breach the porch I hear an old friend crying out to me. Simba is waiting on the other side, evidently famished. "It's okay Simba, I'm coming now", I say in calming tones through the door, still fumbling for the inner house door key. He continues to miaow his siren call until I turn the alarm off and can give him some attention. He won't have eaten since this morning and it's hit him harder than usual today - I quickly find him his cat food and serve it up to him leaning over him as I do so. He loves to nuzzle under my neck as I feed him. He's purring now, completely contented, and so am I. I finish serving the food to the starving cat and wait for him to start eating it but he doesn't.
My feline friend stays inches away from his bowl happy just to be stroked and nuzzled, a furry vampire inches away from blood, but suddenly Whiskas is no substitute for love. Every day I begin as a weary soul and finish it barely north of broken, the utter shit of my daily existence all but tearing out the life of me. Then a thoughtless pratt had stolen the feeble remains of the wind from my sales, stifling my partial recovery as the Seventh Circle became more distant, threatening another chunk of my precious existence as their stupid moment promised to linger in my head too long.
But now I am immediately fixed.
He came to us as a stray, terrified of me when I so much as lifted my hand, expecting me to hit him, clearly abandoned by his former vile tormentor of an owner. Even now he jumps out of the way if I pass him too fast in the hallway, or threatens to bite me if he ever feels trapped when he's in my arms, but he's better now. We helped to repair him - he'll never be what he could have been if he'd had a more blessed life from the start - but we love him completely and that's enough. With time he trusted us enough to love us back and now he helps repair me too, every time I see him.
Created: Apr 03, 2014LiamSheils Document Media