My cat was the only witness to a murder in a bathroom. Henceforth, he feels it is his loving animal duty to prevent that same kind of murder from happening to me. I don’t mean to be macabre, but that is really the only explanation that makes sense.
Simon is one of my beautiful adult black cats adopted from the Humane Society last year. He had been left on their front porch in a carrier with a note that read: “Friendly neighborhood cat. Keep carrier.”
Simon is many things, and he is friendly, to a degree, but there is no way he was just some ‘friendly’ neighborhood cat. He’s very skittish, and frightens at the least little noise. I don’t think this is the kind of cat that would just wander up to strangers. Actually, this is the kind of cat that hides until he’s certain it’s me that’s calling for him.
Every time someone passes away, no matter what the circumstances, there are people left mourning. A celebrity brings joy to millions, and so, that loss is felt by millions. A woman from a small town may not have affected as many on a global scale, but her loss is just as deeply felt by those who loved her.
Earlier this month, Vicky Wise, a beautiful beacon of my community, passed on after a six year battle with cancer. And today, I, along with most of the world, was shocked at the loss of comedian Robin Williams.
Two very different people who faced their final days in very different ways. One was in tremendous physical pain, while the other was in tremendous emotional pain. Vicky was surrounded by loved ones in her final moments, while Robin, presumably, was alone.
This week, I am sharing on of my favorite chapters from my work in progress, the novelization of my second film, “The Hepburn Girls.” This is still very much rough draft form, but I’d love to hear your feedback, and if it is something you would enjoy reading once the novel is complete.
For a synopsis of the film, please visit my tab labeled “The Hepburn Girls.”
Two Blueberry Muffins
Lunchtime finally rolls around and I tuck myself away in my favorite reading area. I never eat in the break room. It smells like burned popcorn tinged with the lingering aroma of stinky burritos. Instead, I like to eat the same way I work, surrounded by intelligent words. I am nose deep in a novel when I hear some rustling and the chair scrape beside me. I look up into the face of pure joy in human form.
Larry Louis is my classmate from high school. We used to ride the bus together before Alfred started driving. With Will Smith’s movie star good looks and a personality to match, Larry grew up to become our town’s mailman and favorite citizen.
A long time ago, I teased him about becoming mayor of the city since he seemed to already know everything about everyone anyway. He just smiled and shook his head. I knew him well enough to read between the lines. While the suit of politics would fit him perfectly, his shoes of service were workman’s boots. To stuff him away in an office would kill his joy; he preferred to serve man and commune with God in nature.