She Fixed Things
She was the one thing that came into my home when everything else was leaving — my mom, our furniture, and my willingness to continue residing there. For the first hour that she was there, she sat in the corner, just watching. She sat so still that the dog didn’t even notice her. She seemed tense, nervous, shaking at the slightest movement or noise. This place wasn’t her home, not yet.
Over the next few weeks, I began to notice her little quirks: the way her left eye would wink when she was tired, the freckles on the bottom of her feet, the one long streak of white fur running down her back. But the most important thing about her was her love of people. She greeted me every day when I came home, snuggled with me every time I sat down. I would hear her cries of loneliness if she was left in a room by herself and did not know where anyone was.
When I had a sinus infection and was hardly able to leave my bed, she slept next to me. Nights that I previously had spent staying up late with my mom were now spent in the cat’s company. Days when my depression won over my desire to experience life were filled with purrs and cuddles.
The way she made my solemn brother giggle and my dad’s eyes fill with love assured me that she was just what this family needed to heal. She was the one thing that fixed this home when everything was broken.