The Hour of Return
Evenings used to mean a quiet walk to the rescue.
My steps would slow before I even saw the door,
as if my heart already knew:
The moment was close,
the moment their faces would appear.
Now the street is silent.
But in my mind, I still hear paws shifting on blankets,
the soft rustle of whiskers in greeting.
Tonight, I am home, yet my thoughts drift to my dearest friends, my family of rescue cats. The day keeps me busy, my hands are full of tasks, and my mind is focused elsewhere. But when evening falls, the hour I once spent in their company, grief arrives like a familiar visitor. And I grow restless. I wonder: Who is caring for them now? Who feeds them, gives them medicine, comforts them in illness or fear?
This evening, the sky has been heavy with clouds. But just before night settled in, a small gap opened, long enough for the bright orange-red sun to spill through. The light lingered for a heartbeat before slipping behind the dark clouds again. That brief light felt like a gift, a single breath of fresh air reaching into my lonely soul. As if the sun itself wanted to comfort me, insisting on a sunset even under a shrouded sky.
That glow brought back another memory of my recent visit to the fair.
Normally, I avoid crowds and noise. I don’t care for rides or greasy, salty food. But this time, I felt like there was a reason to go. My sister-in-law had told me the flower buildings were decorated with the theme of dogs and cats. The idea felt like a gentle tug on my heart.
So my daughter Sasha and I went.
The fair greeted us with thousands of twinkling lights beneath a warm, orange sky, the air filled with laughter, the hum of voices, and the calls of vendors. It felt like everyone was chasing the last drops of summer.
The flower building smelled of fresh earth and green leaves. Inside, displays spilled over with blossoms, reds, oranges, whites, and lush greens. There were porches dressed in blooms, vintage watering cans pouring into tiny ponds, and tucked among them, figurines of cats and dogs.
One scene stopped me in my tracks: a black cat sitting beneath a bush, his back to the crowd, head turned as if glancing over his shoulder. Instantly, I thought of GiGi. The ache of his absence returned sharp and sudden. I noticed other cats too; they perched on fences, playing with yarn, peeking from behind flowerpots. Their faces seemed happy, curious, alive in their own quiet way.
I knew, deep down, this wasn’t a coincidence. Through this unexpected garden of animals, my beloved friends were reaching out, heart to heart, soul to soul, reminding me we are never truly apart.
When our visit ended, Sasha and I waited for the tractor tram under the wide branches of an old cottonwood tree. The wind whispered through the leaves, and for a moment, I felt as if I were meeting an old friend.
We climbed into the tram, holding our hands as the fair’s lights faded behind us. We didn’t buy caramel apples or brave the rides. But we carried something far more precious: the quiet, sacred light of connection, the kind that survives distance and time.
Tonight, when that sudden beam of sunlight broke through the clouds, I felt the same message again: the last light of summer, the last glimpse of a moment you want to hold forever. I remembered the final time I walked through the rescue, pausing to meet the gaze of each cat before leaving.
Like the setting sun, those moments passed, but their light remains.
I know now: bonds of love are never truly broken. They only change shape, finding new ways to shine through the clouds.
Evening Meditation
Close your eyes.
Let the day’s noise fall away.
In this quiet, imagine the face of the one you miss.
See their eyes, bright, gentle, or mischievous.
Feel the warmth of their presence beside you,
not as a memory, but as a living thread of connection.
Breathe in, as if you are gathering light.
Breathe out, sending that light toward them.
Let it carry your love across any distance,
across time itself.
Picture them safe, joyful, and at peace.
And know without question:
they feel you,
just as you feel them.
Rest here for a moment,
in this shared, unbroken love.
When you open your eyes,
carry that quiet glow with you into the night.
The post was prepared with the assistance of ChatGPT.