Of cats and countless tears

Last night you reminded me of an astounding era from some years back. That ended with a mother and child hugging and crying. In fact, you spoke of a lot of weeping and an incessant shedding of tears. On the phone, by the windowsill, in the company of family and some in the dark, deep recesses of the heart. Oceans of tears, ebbing and flowing with the passage of the moon across the sky. Of days eclipsed by misapprehensions and other such pointless illusions. And all I could recollect was cats.

A ground floor apartment abandoned with its door unhinged and windowpanes shattered. With forlorn trees swaying to a distant demonic beat. Shedding leaves; the falling twigs echoing deep within the marrow of the bones. Chilling the spine, freezing the blood. The conniving moon and the wily shadows and their unmentionable intrigues and conspiracies.

And, of course the cats. Perhaps twenty or thirty or maybe more. A countless number of cats. Cats jumping out from every alcove, every corner, every gap. Astounding, unimaginable, incredible numbers of cats. Cats disappearing into the shadows and jumping out of the shadows ever renewed.

Yes, that’s all I could recollect. Cats and their meows echoing through a vacant, forsaken house.