Fig the Pirate Cat

A week ago, I asked friends and family for new writing ideas. A friends daughter requested a story about a one eyed cat named Fig. Fictional stories are by far my biggest writing challenge, so here is what I was able to come up with, though I may one day need be visiting Fig's story again.

Fig was a brave little cat,
he did not like to take naps,
he'd tease and trick his older brothers,
he loved to roll in peanut butter!

When you first saw Fig you were surprised,
'cause he was born with only one eye,
he loved to wear a patch outside,
and pretend he was a pirate in disguise!

One day Fig's patch was lost and missing,
making him one very sad, lost little kitten,
he searched and roamed trying to find
where his pirate patch had gone to hide.

He climbed tall trees to search birds nests,
but that made all the mama birds protest,
he tried to swim to the bottom of the river,
but the water was too cold – it made his whiskers shiver!

He looked under rocks and in a strawberry patch,
but only found one pair of socks that didn't match,
from dawn to dusk he wandered wide,
but when night came he went home somber and tired.

His mom asked him why he was so blue,
for he was too sad to even eat his food,
he took a deep breath and told her his tale,
as he came to the end one blue tear slowly fell.

His mom hugged him tight and said 'Cheer up little man,
just look what I've got here in my hand',
Fig looked down with his little green eye,
and let out a yell full of delight!

For in his mom's paw lay his pirates patch,
and right next to that was a real pirate hat!
He squirmed to the ground and donned his new gear,
He was a real pirate now – with nothing to fear!

He kissed his mom's cheek and then ran out the door,
he had oceans to cross and the whole world to explore;
And never again did his patch go missing,
he was forever and always one brave pirate kitten!

A Year Ago

A year ago today my future was a mystery, daily life was anguish, I felt utterly lost. I lived so confused that every breath I took seemed only to bring me more questions about what I should do, questions so strong I feared I might never find their answer. I knew I had to leave Maine. As beautiful and wonderful as it was, it simply did not have what would keep my soul happy, and yet the thought of saying goodbye to that place I had come to love so deeply was agony. I wanted to hold onto it longer, wanted to keep the life and structure I'd built there, wanted cling to the small sense of safety it brought me when so much else of my life was uncertain. And I was living with her voice in my head, plaguing me each and every second with her desperate attempts to lead me back down the trail of death. Part of me was afraid to recover, and each day was a precarious walk over that tightrope to recovery, with the fall into relapse an all too easy and temping step to the side. All together I was scared, terrified, petrified. It seemed I was facing the impossible.

Slowly though the decisions came and with them doubt ever so slightly began to fade. Fear roared then became a whisper then was silenced. Each passing day I found new, steadier footholds to guide my path, months came and went bringing with them the gift of more confidence in myself. And then, almost as if by magic, it's suddenly now – today – and I am able to look back on this past year with nothing less than wonder.

I have experienced moments I never could have imagined, seen things that before only existed in my dreams I have learned so much about the world, discovered so much more about who I am. As I look back on all the choices, adventures, and challenges that took place I know now it was year that I truly lived. I didn't listen to the weakness of my fear, I followed my strength of my heart, and I could not be more grateful. I'm not saying my life is perfect now, it isn't. My job is sometimes stressful, I still have her as a daily companion, each day isn't full of nothing but carefree happiness. But here is what I do have...deep joy. For the first time in maybe forever, I have a job I am excited to wake up for. And while 'fully recovered' isn't a tittle I'd apply to myself, I am doing well, and no longer is each bite of food agony. My cats are both happy and healthy. I get to see my best friend every day, and watch her kids grow. My mom is well and my sisters flourishing - this June I get to become an aunt not just once – but twice! I am surrounded by mountains and soak up their silent, guarding beauty each and every day. There is a thin blanket of fresh fallen snow outside my bedroom window as I write, and warm blankets and good books are always beckoning me to go lose myself in their magic.

A year ago my future seemed a haunted mystery. The beauty of the future though is that it is a mystery that will always be solved, and as mine inevitably unraveled it brought me the most incredible gift; that is a deeper knowledge of what I am capable of, an awareness of a strength I had not known I possessed. I wonder today where I will be a year from now. Will life will be heaven or might it be hell? I will only know with time. But everything I have done these past 12 months to get to this exact moment, this exact place on the earth, well it has brought me hope, strength, and acceptance for whatever will come.

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