Time capsules can teach us a lot about maintaining perspective.
“The Cat” (In the Cat’s Eye, 2009), is about that point, about forty years ago, when I realized that material things all ultimately perish, but the life lessons of my childhood had persevered and were a constant in my life.
The “tiny crystal ball” is a remnant of my childhood that rests in my mind’s eye, and has helped me to see a little bit of the future, as well as the past.
I have a real one (although not the same one) from my children’s games that I keep on my desk to remind me of the things I learned “in my mother’s garden”.
This will probably be my last post for a few days, as I don’t believe I will have access to wi-fi service for a while.
Glenn K. Currie
A cat waits by my door.
A visitor from the past,
Escaped from the mixing pot
Of watercolor memories.
He silently sits by the dish
Where pieces of my mother’s garden
Come to rest.
He stares unblinking,
Seeing me as a child,
Remembering me from decades ago.
I had stroked him for luck,
And played with him on sunshine days
When we lived in the hour
And the certainty of tomorrow.
I buried him by a catnip bush
On a crimson, autumn afternoon.
A day when the wind
Persuaded the white oaks
To let their golden leaves fly.
When promises were made,
Then forgotten in the aging season.
Only the cat survived,
Finally working his way to the surface
Among remnants of the cardboard time capsule.
His green iris was reborn in the sunlight:
A tiny crystal ball
Telling me what he had learned
In my Mother’s garden.