She arched her back like a curved, long bridge. I loved it when she did that. Her eyes glistened as she looked up at me, as if always a bit wet from crying. Her whiskers would brush me ever so slightly as I bring her close to my face. Harmonica, my furry grey cat, closed in on my shoulder, snuggling her pink nose into the crevasses in my sweater.
My mother just died. My world has fallen apart. Perhaps, my mothers’ spirit is somewhere in Harmonica. Maybe one of those nine lives belong to my mother. Like my mother, Harmonica sensed my fear and anger. My mom would always know more than I thought she did. I couldn’t hide my true feelings from her, she knew me too well. Harmonica knew too. Harmonica lifted her face, licking my cheek. Her tongue feels like a wet blade of grass. Her deep purrs vibrate against my heart. She must be in there. The eternal goodness I saw in my mother shown through Harmonica’s eyes like an untouchable sun.
Maybe, just maybe, souls travel through animals like sound waves through the air, eternal consciousness forever lasting. Perhaps my mother’s caring soul was lifting my cat’s ears up, perking her little cat body up like a furry puppet, ready to accept my sadness and tears. My mother was the only one that could do that. It must be her,
held in that furry innocent being looking up at me with olive eyes.
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