Sitting in Clover

It was dark and quite warm,   the clunking of tires on the uneven pavement became like white noise.    My trusty black Tuxedo cat layed on my hip and purred and we both fell into sleep.   The steady beat of life reverberated like a clandestine dream.    The humidity was hell-fire and I welcomed even the slightest breeze.     My car,  my home.   A Honda and I guess being relatively short can be useful at times,   especially curled up in the car.

The escape was worth it…   from the tumultous hyper drama and wailing miscreants I found a jagged rock to lay upon,   whose pains entrenched in me,  an appreciation of being to myself.   I never wanted in my entire life to be surrounded with no way out.   Watching movies I would become so apprehensive that I could not reconcile that kind of violence.   People controlling you.    I wanted to be a ship that drifts far out to sea.   Clad in comfortable clothing and nesting in a silent harbor.

On my trips my faithful cat would either sit in the back window on the headrests her head bobbling now and again.   She was my sentry and she would do her rounds,  clamboring upon my lap and then looking out the window.   The stares were an endorsement and utterly surprised people would point.    I had my faithful sidekick,  who she herself was bound for a while.    My heart longed for the frienship between man and cat and the simple comfort of being loved and without the pain of parting.

The world has a lot of hurting souls and just a kind word of encouragement helps.    I would find dark garages with enough light to scare off ghouls and to keep kitty warm or camp out at night in my car at a Walmart somewhere.   You could see the drug trade stealthily closing deals and pretending not to notice and trying to sleep at a darker portion of the lot.

Feeding kitty was a joy.   She thrived on entertaining me,   leaping wildly from one perch to another with her favorite being upside down and playing the passenger side headrest.   I ducked under the covers and prayed for stillness and when done,  she would saunter purposefully back to my side or laying close to me.

There were the stormy nights when buckets of rain fell from heaven.   We would go to a rest stop and park as the rain drops and sometimes hail buffeted our buggy with my cat hunched close by in fear and me petting and reassuring her that her daddy would die for her.

Even at the DR,   I would explain my issue needing the cat to keep me from going over a waterfall head first.   I was needed and feeding her gave me joy.   To be needed and to not worry (as much) GAD does that and MDD does not make it easier.    We find flashlights hidden in a dark mosaic.   The fear that binds us,  has a loose grip.  We wallow in a dreamstate,  each moment it’s own.   We see God in our invisible tomes leading us to a safer home.

One day at a parking lot at a Walmart were a bunch of twenty something eccentrics being harassed by the manager.   I went over to the young people and started talking.   I envied their caravan of adventure,  the girls clad gothically and yet provocatively which only added to the enigma.    They were very nice people and I attested to the manager that would soon be on the way.    Understanding misunderstood people is the stuff of dreams.   We are all broken and yet delivered from the arbitray tract of land that constrains us all.

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