I’ve been a busy bee this week. Doing all the things. Banking that good karma.
It probably isn’t surprising, if you have read my blog, that I make friends very easily.
I find the best way to become someone’s friend to be there for them when no one else will be. It puts the friendship on a certain base level of sincerity and compassion.
I also get asked for help at Target all the time, but that’s another story.
First good thing: I helped a friend whose cat had a new litter of kittens, but then developed a infection in her mammary glands (the cat, not the friend). So I took the two girl cats, a calico and a gray tabby, and bottle-fed them so that the cat-mom could rest.
They are back with their mom… THANK GODDESS! Babies, all babies, are a lot of work.
I am also going to take those kittens when they are old enough, and help my friend get the cat-mom spayed. And I took her to PetsMart to get replacement milk and bottles (the friend, not the cat).
I love calicoes, BTW. Awwwwwwwwwww.
Funny story here. Back in June 2018, I was low. Very very low. I knew I needed to get a job, but I couldn’t summon the will to look for work. So my daughter and I lived near poverty level on what my ex-husband and my parents gave us. Then one night, I heard a commotion and opened my door to see a gaggle of my neighbors talking. Right then, a gray and white “almost calico” cat rushed into my apartment and refused to leave.
Everyone decided that she belonged with me, and did a stone-soup help to get me the supplies I needed. (I hadn’t retrieved my other cat from my former residence because I didn’t have the money to pay for the pet deposit). I held her and smelled her fur and started crying. I remember sitting on my sofa and watching my daughter carry her around, and for the first time in months, I thought to myself: “It’s going to be okay.”
Turns out our cat (let’s call her Molly) is the mother of my friend’s cat and so these kittens I took care of, and which we are adopting, are the grandbabies of Molly.
Second good thing: I regularly drive my neighbor and friend to work in the morning. I also drive her to the train station when she needs to visit her family in California. And I feed her cat, her guinea pig, and her fish when she’s away.
That’s just standard friend stuff though. Still, I listen to her and offer her good advice, I’ve been told. In fact, both she and my other friend (we live in the same apartment complex) think that I am “amazing.”
They probably would be willing to put that in writing. In chalk. On my car.
Lastly, and this is an odd one… I bought a new car recently. This was a total necessity since my former vehicle had been brought back from the dead so many times that it could probably get a guest spot on The Santa Clarita Diet.
So now I have a shiny new vehicle and I luhhhhhvvv it. The gal who sold it to me was very helpful and we stayed in touch. She left that job and started driving Uber/Lyft. Like I said, I drive my other friend, Lara, to work in the mornings but she gets a ride home on her own. It was only a matter of time, given that we are a smallish city, that she got a ride from my former salesperson.
Now we are all friends: Kiki, Lara, Anya. We have been thinking about a team name.
Some of the options are more decent than others.
Well, anyway, Anya called me up on Thursday and said, “We need to move out of our place TO-DAY, and my wife has the car with her and I need to go get a U-Haul and no one else is picking up their phones and HELP!”
My father raised me to always say “YES!” when people asked for help. There are many many many things about that man that drive me batty but his willingness to help is absolutely the best part of his personality.
I even brought along my daughter and she played babysitter to the two preschool kids while Anya and I drove around town getting stuff she needed and then loading up a bed, dressers, TVs, clothes, chairs, tables, etc.
I was researching on Google to find an image for the expression, “You are such a little trooper” that wasn’t sarcastic or borderline Nazi. Regardless, as a kid, that was the best compliment your parents could give you: that you worked hard and never gave up.
So, here, this is the gist of it.
To wrap it all up, the title and the first line of this post alludes to the concept of karma.
Do I believe in karma? Well, that depends. (It is never a simple answer with me. Unless the question is: “Do you want guacamole with that?” That answer is always yes.)
I don’t believe in God or the Devil. I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell. I don’t believe in Reincarnation. In fact, I think that the dogma of multiple lives is just a mean-spirited idea meant to keep Untouchables in their place… kind of like the Body of Christ bullshit theory in Western theology. So unless there is a system keeping track of the good and the bad, whether it is Angels taking notes or some cosmic scale floating out there in Nirvana making millions of calculations every single second… No, I don’t believe any of it.
But I do believe it is important for each of us to keep track of the balance of the good and the bad that we do in this world, and always have more in the good karma bank than we will ever ever ever possibly need to use. All of us need help. All of us need TO help. We shouldn’t need a God/Goddess singular or plural to tell us to be nice to each other.
So maybe that’s why I feel finally ready to release this poem. It is one of the hardest to feel confident about because it is so…. desperate? pathetic? needy? horny?
What the hell, I am more than the sum of all my imperfections and stupidities.
I wrote the poem on October 30, 2018. I have included a tag with this post. C’est la vie, c’est la guerre.
you entered my orbit, and I
fell into yours.
tides: ancient, savage, forgotten
tonguing my shores.
the mass of your body always
crushing my mind.
your gaze: dark with fugitive light
striking me blind.
don’t know if I’ll see you again:
now, never, soon?
but I swear if you loved me, I’d
pull down the moon.