This morning began as a full-on kitty ambush.
Whiskey launched herself into attack mode like a tiny furry chainsaw, biting, clawing, gnawing, and turning my forearms into something resembling minced meat. There was no snooze button negotiation. Some days you simply cannot oversleep with a kitten, no matter how convincing your pillow tries to be. Eventually, through scratches and surrender, I got her fed, which is really what all of this was about anyway. Kitty law is simple: feed first, apologize later.
After the dust settled and my arms stopped stinging, my brother Mike came by to visit Mom. Mike likes to talk politics. I mostly listen.
A lot of my beliefs were shaped by college professors who leaned strongly liberal and Democratic, so that perspective is baked into me like an old family recipe. Mike is more Republican, and while we don’t exactly meet in the middle and exchange bumper stickers, I do hear the other side when I listen closely. What Fox News is saying. What Gavin Newsom is supposedly doing wrong. Why, in some parallel universe, anyone would support Trump.
Mom, as usual, plays the role of calm moderator. She asks questions. She listens. She lets people finish sentences. It’s almost radical.
What I’m reminded of, sitting there with clawed arms and political commentary floating through the room, is that there are many sides to the world. Many versions of truth. Me, Mom, and Mike all carry ours, shaped by different experiences, fears, hopes, and news feeds.
Talking politics isn’t exactly my favorite pastime. It doesn’t relax me the way drawing does. It doesn’t purr like a kitten once she’s finally fed. But it does pass the time. And time passing without smoking still counts as a win.
There are a lot of things to do besides smoking. Surviving a kitten attack. Listening instead of arguing. Watching people you love disagree and still care about each other.
In the meantime, I got this.
