Perfect Little Moments

It's dark, late, and while Chris's racuous snoring is a strong suggestion that I can do little to wake him, I still feel as if I have to move, even breathe, in whispers. The TV remote is far out of reach, the screen continues to flicker in colors and I'm hesitant to turn it off because everything's set up in a perfect balance this night. I'm feeling something I haven't experienced in quite a while, and while I don't understand, nor can I explain, why it's happening, I'm content to relish in this for as long as it lasts.

I feel content.
I feel that if I exhale, the world isn't going to collapse.

Carefully, I close the recliner as to not jar the sofa and wake Chris up. I make my way over to my computer. Feeling the feint tugs of exhaustion but still reticent to close my eyes--tomorrow I have to deal again with the same fiasco that's been going on with my foot for far too long, tomorrow I don't know what work will leave me with, tomorrow I don't know what's going to happen with affording groceries, with making bills... I can feel everything building up again, my anxiety getting ready to peak...

So I force it all out of my mind. I sit down at my computer and open up a card game. My mouse finger clicks away at the flash game as my subconscious drifts and drifts on this tumultous river that has reached its calm point between the rapids. I'm only half-conscious now at what's going on around me and before I can wake up--or at least make the effort--my cat decides for me.

Eris climbs up the computer tower and jumps into my lap. My right hand is turns the key in her ignition, starting up her motor as she stretches in my lap, resting her chin in the contours of my jeans by my left knee. Instinctively, I sit there, stroking her, as my mind continues to wander. Her fur is the softest material known to man. It's so soft I wish I could cover my hands, my face, my entire body in it. Normally, she covets herself as a treasure and is content to let us gaze upon her but hesitant to permit us to touch her perfect coat. Tonight, she's not just willing, but eager, to have me stroke her.

My cat, Eris, exhibits the common feline character traits of being excessively prideful with a sense of self-consciousness that borders on concieted. She does not choose us--something she consistently reminds us with by a subtle swoosh of the tail or a not-so-subtle scamper whenever I step passed the boundary of what's too close for her comfort level. As I'm in the middle of bragging about my sudden stroke of good fortune to my coworker, Kody, through AIM, something else dawns on me.

Even three months ago, I would have laughed at anyone who told me I would be experiencing this right now. Two years ago, I would have clasped my hands together and pleaded, "You'd better not be joking with me." Five years ago... we can go further back than that, I think I would have gone insane if I'd known it would be this long of a wait.

I finally have her, though.

I've spent most of my life waiting for this perfect moment--not only to have my own cat, but to have her choose me, of her own free will, to comfort and by whom she wishes to be comforted. She's the most beautiful and precious cat on so many levels that I can't begin to explain, but I'm certain her ego needs none of my petty words. She seems content to sit there and mesmerize us all.

I'm more than content to let her.