Noticing the Little Beauties
The other morning, I walked out my front door and saw something unusual.
My friend was across the street taking her two dogs for a morning walk. But they were being followed.
About half a block behind them, moving in a suspicious sequence of stops and starts, was a very large, very furry calico cat. My friend had told me that her cat did this. But this morning, here it was in the flesh and fur.
My friend went down the block. The cat went down the block. My friend turned right. The cat turned right. But because it was a cat and cats are, by definition, aloof, it always stayed a half block behind.
Perhaps if my friend stopped to look behind her, the cat would be leaning against a No Parking sign, whistling, "Memories," and filing it's nails.
I watched as my friend, her two dogs, and eventually the cat turned out of sight. And I thought, I need to share this. Because it's wonderfully sweet. In a time where there's so much sour, it's easy to overlook, to dismiss, to forget the sweet.
But the sweet is no less a part of the world than all the sorrow. And perhaps one of our greatest challenges in the face of so much hurt and pain is to still notice the little beauties, to still allow ourselves to be moved by them, our hearts to be softened by them.
And the wonder of it all is that often, we need go no further than out our front door to find them.