Pink Think: “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” – Theodor Geisel
Dewey, on our front porch last fall
On Sunday, our neighbor told us that their cat Dewey died. Dewey was our neighbor’s cat that made our front porch his sleeping quarters this frigid winter season. He hadn’t been coming around for quite some time, which wasn’t like him at all. My husband had offered to look at him for free (he is a veterinarian), but the neighbors said he seemed okay.
My heart broke at the news. For all my denials – “I don’t want a cat!” – I got pretty attached to him. But my heart broke even more watching my youngest’s tears. Goodbye, Dewey, and may you be warm and cozy where you are now.
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Also on Sunday, my 14 year old daughter received a special blessing in our church. My eyes filled with tears as I watched her just positively glow. When we went home, I searched through my journals for the copy of my own blessing I got when I was 19/20. I didn’t find it, but I found old journals of mine that talk about this daughter when she was a toddler. Has it really been 14 years ago that she was born?
(After looking through my journal entries, I was amazed that I wrote in my journals diligently back then – pretty much daily. Is it just coincidence that since I started blogging, I haven’t been as enthused about journal writing, thinking that “I’ve already written for the day”? Blogging has been fun, but writing in a journal is so different. Nobody to look over your shoulder…right away, anyway. The freedom to be completely honest. No curiosity as to the public’s response.)
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I went in to a guitar store today to check out acoustic-electric guitars. The store owner is a high school music teacher by day and guitar store owner who reminded me of Jon Voight in National Treasure, affable and paternal. As I was pretty much the only customer, he spent a lot of time showing me different guitars. (I think I found one that I liked. A lot.) Then he played a song he had composed, which said, in essence, he would still keep writing songs if it touches even just one heart. The way he fingerpicked through the piece made me think of the song Touch of the Master’s Hand. By the end of the song, I was poking around in my purse for a kleenex. Beautiful music makes me cry.
(Today my oldest, who was finishing an art project for school, thanked me for supporting her in art, as in letting her take lessons, etc. And I told her that I can certainly relate to her love of art – I used to paint – and that’s why I want to give her the chance to learn and enjoy it. The same goes for music. I am glad she loves it, too, as much as I do, because music to me has been the gateway to wonderful emotions and experiences…like at the guitar store. I love wandering the house and playing the piano or the guitar or singing. I can never get enough of it.)
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Smile, friends, and cherish tender moments.
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