Right as we're going into winter and the days are getting shorter, we've lost a beloved thirteen year old great pyrenees dog earlier in the month, and I've stayed up all night last night tending to a cat that had to have emergency surgery for bladder stones. So yes, I'm a bit of an emotional wreck. 

A few times last night I thought I was going to lose Fringe the Cat, and in those dark moments I thought what the hell. I'll do my quarterly taxes. I'll plug away at that book that is at the stage in editing where I think it's the worst book ever written and it's going to wreck my career. I'll write that email I've been nervous about writing. Because I feel like crap, and I'm sad and worried and scared, and worst of all there are these moments of hope that then collapse at the sight of more blood and a protruding tongue and glazed eyes...

Fringe has, in the last half hour, suddenly begun to act like a cat again. He's crying to be let out of his kennel, which is a nice size actually with plenty of room for his favorite bed and a litter box and food and water without all those things getting mixed up in nasty ways. He's gazing at me with his clear green eyes, and there's recognition there. And all the bad things that threatened to crush me in those dark hours, though they still haunt me, seem a little less dire. Because my quarterly taxes are done, the email is written, I've made progress on the book, and best of all Mr. Fringe of the Astronomical Vet Bill is sitting up, was walking around, sniffed his food and water (didn't touch either but hey, progress!) and his eyes are those of a disgruntled cat in pain, not a dying cat.

Perhaps coincidentally, the sunrise will soon blaze across the horizon with pinks and golds and greens as it often does this time of year in our area. Perhaps also coincidentally, my husband will be waking up soon, and I might be able to catch another nap. We're working in shifts to nurse our black and white pile of fluff, you see, a cat who is by the way a very young cat and we're hoping the vet is right and this will be a one time thing. 

Please let it be a one time thing.

But even if it is, the darkness will come again. I hope that I'll have the chance, and the emotional capacity to distract myself with the kind of work that drags me down and makes me wonder why I've chosen this absurdly difficult career path with no guaranteed paycheck, no healthcare except that which I arrange for myself, no sick leave, no pension...

Because when the light comes again, and it always does because no pain, no sorrow, and alas no life lasts forever, I'd like to recapture this feeling that the chores are done, the worst is behind me now, and the future is mine to do with what I will. Even if all I will is a little sleep.

And maybe some breakfast.

With hot chocolate. Maybe with some cherry cordial splashed in it. I can do that, because the hardest of my chores are done, and my time for the rest of the day will soon be my own. I'm free as the kid-me when the bell on the last day of school sounds and summer vacation begins. Thank goodness. And thank the light.

Fringe catching a nap after perking up just long enough to let me know that maybe he's going to be okay after all.