hold on tight

It’s funny about the joy and meditation of mowing. The grass grows when your done. I look out the window and appreciate the glorious shades of green and think about a description of verdant rain that I read a few days ago. It’s soothing and wonderful, but then I realize that the grass is no longer neat and tidy. It has lengthened and stretched toward the sky in many new shades of green, some with a touch of yellow, some a touch of blue. I long for that sense of joy and accomplishment, and yes, I believe I said freedom, that was achieved through the act of mowing. I am denied this pleasure. I am made to wait, held at bay by the verdant rain, the passage of time, the growing grass, and my own list of commitments. Alas, no mowing today, or tomorrow, or the next day. At the point when I return to the grass, it will be dotted pervasively with juicy dandelions. Perhaps I will gain a new and different thrill in the act of beheading the yellow pests.

Knowing that I would not be mowing the grass, I decided to focus on the floors inside my lovely house. Sweeping when there are kittens in the house brings a whole emotional response all it’s own. I have somehow made it to the age of 38 without knowing that 6 week old cats could jump vertically, that’s straight up, almost eighteen inches. Frankie and Vinny squeaked with joy (or perhaps fear) as the red plastic broom danced in the dust and dried peas. They took turns leaping over the bristles. Frankie decided that it would be a good idea to cling to the broom to try and stop it’s progress, He “rode” the broom while looking feverishly to the right and left, hoping for some explanation of the invasion of his new home. Vinny was an acute observer. He surmised that I, the human in flannel, was the motivator. He used both tiny sets of claws to grasp my foot, and then, much to my surprise, he used those same tiny claws to climb up my leg. Not, mind you, the leg of my pajamas, but my actual leg, inside the pajamas. I had the red plastic broom in my left hand, held in the air with Frankie clinging, and squeaking, for dear life. With the other hand I tried to grab Vinny, but he was in my pants so the contact of my hand on his back caused him to panic, and what do we do when we panic, we “hold on tight”. I am proud to say that I was laughing. There have been times in my life when I would have been cursing, times when I would have been crying, but life being what it is today, on this rainy Saturday, I was laughing. Unfortunately there are no witnesses to this event. I suspect that my daughters will ask about the Harry Potter band aids on my foot and my right leg, but I think I’ll just explain that cleaning floors causes strange, life altering emotional catharsis, and sometimes that hurts.