The small things

Lying in bed, trying desperately to fall asleep amid the constant cacophony of my husbands snoring and my BIL’s surround sound system cranked to the highest decibel, my mind starts to replay all that’s wrong with my corner of the world. As I fall into the pit of self pity and the “what if” game I hear a tiny, pure and sweet little meow. I look down at the floor and there sits my beautiful cat. She bats her lovely long eyelashes and meows ever so softly, and then leaps upon my stomach. Granted, 11 pounds of kitty vaulting from the floor onto my stomach isn’t the most comfortable feeling but if you knew my kitty you would understand that just the act of sitting near me is the closest to love she will offer. She was born in the wild and was given to us when she was almost 7 months old. Very rarely is she demonstrative but when she is she puts her heart into it. She lays down on my stomach turns her head and looks at me with her large green eyes. Instinctively, I reach my hand to pet her and she rubs her head on my hand then very gently and with lightening speed bites my hand. I lie back on my pillow, relax and drift off to sleep.