Some mornings, like today, I wake up crying. Not from grief or sadness, but from an immense pressure of love swelling up in my whole heart.
What sparks it? Usually Murphy, Tabby, and Mr. Meow, but even Wayne’s regularly the cause of this feeling. It happens when I’m bombarded with more love than I know what to do with.
When Wayne is out of town on business, the duty of Murph’s first morning walks fall on me. Wayne and Murph are big time morning people. They wake at five ready to greet the sun. I like mornings, but a little later on, like closer to seven. But when Wayne’s gone, I do make an effort for Murph’s sake to get up earlier and not make him hold it any longer than he has to.
Today I failed. I had a bit of a headache (borderline migraine) yesterday that was still lingering when the alarm went off at 6:20 this morning. Murph patiently waited while I hit the snooze several times. Finally he had enough. He crawled into bed beside me, whining softly, to let me know while he sympathized with my pain, could I please also sympathize with his and let him out?
Tabby was there too, the entire time sprawled on my tummy purring softly and making the funny mew-whimpers she makes when we disrupt her slumber. (Which I had to do every nine minutes to hit the snooze.)
Murph is so gentle, tender, and compassionate to me in the mornings, and Tabby is just too cute all the time, but especially during tuck ins and wake ups. And when I finally do get up and head downstairs to feed them all, there’s Mr. Meow. He waits patiently for me to fill his bowl, but instead of diving right in, he prefers I give him a little loving first. Then he’ll eat.
This is just what sparked it today, this feeling of such humbling, pure, unconditional love that it makes me want to cry. It’s not very overt, just very subtle the ways they love me, but I want to cry because I can’t help but think of how close I came to not knowing each of them.
What if, instead of stopping to make friends with Mr. Meow that November night eight years ago, I continued on to swim practice instead?
What if we went back to the shelter the next Saturday after we met Murph the week before and he hadn’t been there?
What if I hadn’t stopped three months ago and scooped up the little kitten out of the middle of the road who has become our beloved Tabby Girl?
We’re all regularly faced with split second decisions to choose one path or another. Each leads somewhere, we know not where until we venture forward upon our selected route.
Every day I am so thankful I picked the paths I did with Murphy, Tabby, and Mr. Meow. How empty my life would be otherwise, and how barren my heart.