Nothing really matters to that cat. At some point he is nudged from his sleep and leaps down the hall to the dining room table covered with yesterday’s news. Two placemats and two unfolded linen napkins. Two cereal bowls. Two candlesticks, beeswax. Wooden salt and pepper shakers. The green and sand straw trivet. At least one woven coaster from Oaxaca. And the red glass plate Linda gave to Brock and me so many years ago.
When was the last time I took those few minutes to straighten the table. Arrange these things in such a way that might remind me the items are important to me. Only a few minutes and leave the table with a sense of purpose to highlight our cosas. Allow them to assume they mattered. A few weeks ago we hung a rug, arranged a few pictures to enhance our new addition. We sit with our backs to the said wall. Facing the table of no order.
a string of days 